td
by Anon6137
Summary: td
1. Chapter 1

Part 1: the Flute

Taylor stared at the flute.

It had been her mother's before she died. It was not an expensive instrument, but her mother had always kept it polished and cleaned, and made sure that the keys worked smoothly. She could still recall her mother playing it; the sound had been haunting and beautiful, and had brought tears to her eyes.

There were tears in her eyes now, tears of pain and anguish.

The flute lay atop the heap of trash destined for the compactor. When she had found it, she had first felt a surge of joy; Emma had only taken it to scare her.

But then she looked more closely.

It had been ... violated.

The body had been beaten flat, with what must have been a brick. The nickel-plated keys had been torn half off. And something horrible, with a vile odour, had been smeared into every crack, every crevice, every finger-hole.

She couldn't even bear to touch it.

She wanted to throw up.

She went looking for a bag, something made of plastic. If she could wrap it up, get it home, Dad could fix it. Dad could fix _anything_.

When she got back, the flute was gone. She couldn't see it anywhere. She had turned her back; she had lost it a second time.

One more torture to the many that already lay upon her shoulders.

 _Oh god, what can I do now?_

She went to the bathroom, locked herself into a stall, and cried and cried.

***

Danny Hebert came home to find Taylor lying curled up on the sofa; the room lights were not on, and nor was the TV. She was staring at nothing, arms around her knees.

"Afternoon, kiddo," he said, then slowed. She had not answered him.

"Taylor?" he asked her.

She whimpered. It was the sound of an animal in the extremity of pain.

In an instant, he was seated on the sofa beside her, pulling her on to his lap. She clung to him desperately.

"God, Taylor," he said softly, patting her on the back gently as she started to cry, "what happened?"

"I didn't mean to," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it to happen. Oh god, I didn't want it to happen."

"What?" he asked her. "What happened?"

 _Oh god,_ he thought. _She's been raped. Or she's had sex with a boy and she's pregnant. On top of everything else. Oh god._

"Who did it?" he asked automatically. "Who did this to you?" _I'll kill him,_ he thought. _I will seriously kill him._

"I took it to school," she said. He couldn't follow her. _Took_ _ **what**_ _?_

But she was speaking. "Mom's flute. I took it to school. Thought I could get through the day if I could go to my locker and look at it, hold it."

He knew the flute, knew it well. He'd given it to Taylor as something to remember her mother by. A cold feeling stole over him. "What happened?"

She was crying into his shirt, getting it wet. He couldn't have cared less. "Someone – someone took it from my locker. Wrecked it. Destroyed it. _Killed_ it. I couldn't touch it. Couldn't. It had ... _stuff_ on it."

Her misery was so complete that he could not even begin to raise any anger for her having taken something so precious to school. But she had said, it was in her locker. _Someone took it from her_ _ **locker**_ _?_

"Where is it now, kiddo?" he asked, very gently.

"Went to get a bag," she sniffled. "But when I got back – it was gone. Like it was never there." She burst out crying all over again. "I should have grabbed it, kept it, not worried about the shit on it. I was so _stupid!"_

He held her, rocked her, while his heart burned with anger. Not at her; never at her. But anger at those heartless _scum_ who had made Taylor's life a living hell for the last two years.

"Who did it, Taylor?" he asked. "Do you know who did it?"

She looked up at him, her eyes reddened, her face tear-stained. "I think it was Emma. Or Sophia. Or Madison."

"Emma?" he asked. "Emma _Barnes?"_ He paused in confusion. "But she's your friend!"

She shook her head. "No, Dad," she said dully. "She hasn't been my friend since we started high school." And the tale tumbled out; the snide comments, the references to her mother, the shoves, pinches, trippings.

How she would find her clothes in the toilet, or thrown at her in the showers. How her classwork would be defaced or stolen and handed in by one of the three as their own. How her projects would be destroyed or sabotaged.

How it was always Emma, or Sophia, or Madison behind it. How they never quite did enough to be seen by a teacher. How her complaints had fallen on deaf ears; apparently two alibis were worth one complaint, and they _always_ backed each other up.

He listened, the anger turning to cold rage in his gut.

"Christ almighty," he ground out. "I'm going to ring Alan Barnes right now and –"

"No Dad, no," she pleaded, clutching at his sleeve, as though to stop him. "It won't do any good, really it won't. And it's over now anyway. Today was the last day before Christmas break. Maybe they'll have gotten bored of it by January. Found something else to do."

He saw her point, though he still wanted to ring Alan Barnes, and tell him a few home truths about his precious Emma. And the Clements girl ... he didn't even know her father. But he should know as well.

But Taylor had asked him not to.

"Well, fine," he said reluctantly. "But over this break, we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me everything that's been going on. _Everything._ Anything that's a possible criminal offence, we'll take special note of. And if they do _one goddamn thing_ to you come January, we take the lot to the police. I am not letting them get away with one single more goddamn thing." He held her tightly. "Ever."

Taylor hugged him back. She loved him so much; he felt more like her father than he had, these last few months.

"Thanks, Dad," she said softly. "I've –"

"You've what?" he asked gently.

"I've been writing down what they've been doing, since September," she said. "Every day."

His head came up, and he looked at her. "Right," he said. "I want to see that. In fact, I'm going to look around for a legal aid expert, and see how much of what you've written down is actionable in court. So if they start up again ..." He didn't have to finish.

"I can get that for you," she said. "Plus the emails they've been sending me."

"Bad?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, her head down. "I ... I didn't want to bother you."

He drew in a deep breath. "I ... haven't been much of a father, lately," he admitted. "But I'm back now. You're my daughter, and I love you, and I will defend you to the very last breath in my body."

She relaxed into his embrace. Tears came to her eyes again, but they were tears of a different kind.

 _Dad's going to help. It's all going to be okay._

***

"But you've got to be able to do something with it!" Danny protested, trying to keep his voice down. Beside him, Taylor shrank into her chair, head down.

"I'm really sorry," said the legal aid representative, carefully sorting the papers on the desk. "The emails are all from throwaway accounts. The people who sent them obviously chose them for that purpose." He looked directly at Taylor. "Personally, I have no doubt that they are all from these people you speak of, but proving it in court is a far different matter."

"Okay," said Danny. "The other things. How about them?"

The rep cleared his throat. "Frankly, Mr Hebert, I am astonished and appalled at the systematic campaign of bullying that has been going on here. Your daughter does not seem to be the attention-seeking type that would create such a thing from whole cloth. But."

He put his hand on the pile of papers. "All of this is simply ink on paper. She would have to be cross-examined about each and every incident, and the defending attorney would do his best to shake her story, or produce witnesses that brought them into doubt."

His lips tightened. "If I had even the slightest shred of hope that justice could be wrung out of what is written in here, I would urge you to take it to the courts. But if, as you say, the chief offender's father is an attorney in his own right, then he has tricks he can play, even if you win."

He sighed. "I will put you in touch with people I know, people who might see more than I can in this. I _can_ take it myself, if you insist, but I can already see how it would turn out, and that way is badly, for yourselves."

"Right," said Danny heavily. "Well, thank you for your time." He stood, picked up the papers, and shook the man's hand briefly.

"I wish I could do more," said the rep.

"So do I," said Danny shortly.

The door closed behind him.

The legal aid representative got up and put on his coat.

Cases like this depressed him. _I need a drink._

***

Danny eyed Taylor over the table that night at dinner. She was silent, withdrawn, pale. Her food had been pushed around the plate, but barely touched.

He reached out and touched her arm; she jumped.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" he asked gently.

She nodded; barely a movement, her hair swayed gently. He could not see her eyes.

"It's okay," he said, with enthusiasm he didn't feel. "We'll go and see someone else tomorrow. Someone better."

She shook her head. "Won't make any difference." Her voice was barely audible.

"Of course it will," he said heartily, but there was nothing behind it. _Christ, who am I trying to convince?_ he asked himself. _Me or her? Because I know she isn't, and I don't think I am either._

"Okay," he said. "Just hang in there, all right? Things will get better."

She raised her eyes to his, very slightly. The doubt he saw in them tore at his heart.

 _I'm supposed to be her_ _ **father**_ _!_ he raged. Silently, impotently. _I'm supposed to_ _ **protect**_ _her! How the goddamn fucking hell can I do that against this?_

And then he looked at her again, and he felt a faint chill of worry. People in Taylor's position had committed suicide before, and they would again.

 _Christ,_ he thought. _Not my girl. Not Taylor. I couldn't stand that. I'd die first._

"Can you do me a favour and clear the dishes?" he asked gently. "I need to go to the bathroom."

She nodded faintly, and rose to clear the table. He went upstairs.

He used the bathroom, all right. But he also removed all the dangerous pills from the bathroom cabinet, and the straight razor he favoured for shaving over the disposable type. _If she killed herself with that ... I'd never forgive myself._

By the time he came downstairs, she had started on the dishes, and he gave her a hand. They chatted while they did it; or rather, he chatted, and she gave him nods, shakes of the head, and monosyllabic replies.

They watched TV for a while after that; or rather, the TV was on, and they sat in front of it. Taylor barely seemed to be taking any of it in, and Danny was trying to figure out what to say to her, to tell her that he loved her, to please, oh goddamn please don't kll herself.

Eventually, she got up from the sofa. He got up too, switching the TV off.

"Night, Dad," she said quietly into the silence. "Thanks for trying, today."

He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "And we'll keep trying," he assured her. "Together." He put his hand under her chin, tilted her head up so that her eyes met his. "And Taylor?"

She looked at him, her eyes vast and melancholy. "Yes, Dad?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"If you ever need to talk to me about _anything_ , no matter how bad, no matter when, no matter where, or even if you just need me to hold you, I _will_ be there for you. I _will_ make time. No matter what. I promise. Okay?"

The urgency in his voice seemed to get through to her, and she smiled, very slightly. "Okay, Dad," she said, in a slightly stronger voice. "Thanks."

She held him tightly for a moment longer, then padded up the stairs to bed.

***

She lay in bed and stared out at the darkness. It didn't matter whether her eyes were open or closed, whether she looked into reality or into her thoughts. It was all darkness.

 _I don't see how I can go on,_ she told herself. _I've got nothing more. They've taken it all away from me. I don't even have my flute anymore._

She clenched her eyelids shut, but burning tears still leaked out on to the pillow.

 _Dad tries, and he loves me, but ... it's not enough. He has to think of other things, and I can't be in his thoughts every second of the day. I have to be strong, and I can't. I'm out of strength. There's no more._ She felt the void filling her chest. She didn't even have the strength to cry any more. _I'm done. I'm finished. They've won._

She found herself idly wondering how she was going to kill herself. At the thought, she said to herself, _that's_ _ **terrible**_. But she realised that she didn't mean it. She only thought it _should_ be terrible.

And then, a new thought struck her. _Oh god, she thought. This is what Dad was talking about._

 _He said, any time I need him to hold me, he would be there to hold me._

 _I need him to hold me, now._

***

Danny Hebert opened his eyes from a light doze.

"Wstfgl?" he asked.

"Dad?" came Taylor's voice from the darkness.

"Taylor?" he asked, becoming alert in an instant. "What's up?"

"Can I get in with you, just for a while?" she asked, her voice near tears. "I need you to hold me. Please."

"Of course," he agreed, lifting the covers. "Get in quick, it's cold out there."

She slid into bed quickly, shivering slightly. "It's really cold out there," she agreed. He gathered her into his arms to warm her up. She snuggled close to him gratefully. Her skin was chilly to the touch.

He held her close. She held her arms close to her, enjoying the embrace. "What's the matter, kiddo?" he asked quietly.. "Did you want to talk about something?

After a moment, she shook her head. She didn't want to freak him out with talk of casual thoughts of suicide. "Just wanted you to hold me, Dad," she said softly. "I just needed to know that _someone_ in this crappy world loves me."

He smiled and went to kiss her on the forehead; in the darkness, it landed somewhere next to her left eye. She giggled anyway.

"Well, I do," he assured her. "And I always will."

She tried to get comfortable, but their knees kept knocking together. "Roll over," he advised her. "Spoon fashion."

"Yeah," she agreed, and rolled over.

At this point, it is relevant to note that Danny was wearing just boxers to bed, whereas Taylor was wearing a short T-shirt and loose panties. Up to this point, neither of them had known nor cared what the other was wearing; they were father and daughter, undergoing a moment of caring and emotional reinforcement.

However, that was where matters began to unravel.

When Taylor rolled over, it twisted her panties around, pulling them just a little bit off her butt. At the same time, her shirt rode up for the same reason, the lower hem coming to rest just below her small breasts. She scooted backwards, thus pulling her panties all the way off her butt, a fact she noticed a little late.

For his part, Danny had woken with a half-hard erection, and having a girl in his arms had not reduced the size of it in any way, daughter or no daughter. In fact, his bed had been empty for years, and he had never actually brought anyone home to fill it.

So when Taylor's accidentally naked buttocks slid back and encountered the head of his penis, emerging from the waistband of his boxers, like it normally did, the contact acted like the starting gun to a racehorse. He suddenly got a lot harder, and more of his erection emerged from the boxers.

Taylor felt something fleshy and warm prod her between her slightly parted buttocks and slide upward; with a grunt of surprise, she reached back and wrapped her hand around it. It was warm, and hard, and throbbed in her hand.

"Holy shit," she said. _"_ _Dad?"_

***

Danny expected, when his daughter rolled over, that he would put his arms around her, and hold her, until she went to sleep. What he did not expect was that when she backed up to him, that her butt would be bare. Worse, that his penis would decide that now was the time to misbehave.

And when Taylor reached back and grabbed him, he was most astonished of all.

"Taylor?" he croaked. "Taylor, you shouldn't –"

***

Taylor rolled over again, the motion pulling her panties farther down and her shirt up entirely off her breasts, but she didn't care. She didn't let go of his now thoroughly erect penis.

"Dad," she said, and she wasn't quite sure whether she was experiencing disgust, arousal, or both at the same time. "Are you _hard_ for me?"

He tried to push her away, and his hand found her bare breast. It lingered there for a telling, burning second, before he jerked it away. "Taylor," he said. "Please. Don't. This is wrong."

She shook her head in the darkness. "Dad," she said softly. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I have no direction." She slid her panties down and off, kicked them away. Moved closer to him. Opened her thighs. Took his unresisting hand and pressed it to her sex, let him feel the heat, the moisture.

Her hand was sliding up and down his shaft, inexpertly but sending thrills of pleasure through him.

"Let me do this," she whispered, moving closer to him, her hard nipples brushing his chest. "You're all I have left. I have nothing more. Give me something more. Please."

 _Christ,_ he thought. _My daughter is naked in bed with me, seducing me!_ He groaned inwardly, trying to force back the pleasure that she was causing him with her manipulations. His hand, unbidden, was caressing her soft wet folds of flesh, drawing soft moans of pleasure from her.

"Oh, god," he groaned. _What do I_ _ **do**_ _?_

***

When Taylor had first felt his erection prodding at her butt, she hadn't known what it was; of course, when she reached down to grab for it, she realised immediately. Her first instinct had been to let it go, but then something stopped her. Her dad was hard for _her?_ Holy shit!

Such was her craving for some level of acknowledgement that she saw her father's involuntary reaction to her accidental touch to be some kind of validation of her existence. She was woman, she was female, she could arouse men. Even her father.

 _On some level, he wants to have sex with me. Or at least his penis does._

She thought that, somehow, she should be disgusted or repulsed by the idea. _Incest_. But to a mind that had recently begun to consider seriously the ramifications and the execution of a good suicide plan, the thought of her father being aroused by touching her butt seemed ... less than a problem.

And, truth be told, she was feeling more than a little arousal at the idea of ... what? Holding his penis? Which, by the way, was still standing stiff and hard at her touch. Letting him touch her? His hand was sending nummy waves of pleasure all through her body. She did not want him to stop. _I want him to do more to me. So much more._

She stopped short at the idea. 'More', in this case, meant ... sex.

 _Do I really want to have sex with my father?_

Again, the lack of emotional reaction. No backlash. Arousal still flushing her system.

 _Well, fuck it. Nothing else has worked in my life. May as well give this a shot._

 _It'll be better than pulling some boy into my bed to maul my tits and stick it into me. At least I know Dad loves me._

***

She moved her hand faster, gripped him harder. He groaned again.

"Dad," she said softly.

"Taylor?" he responded, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Dad, I want you to make love to me. Please."

Utter silence.

"Dad?" Even her hand stopped moving up and down his shaft.

"I can't," he groaned. "I mustn't. It's wrong." Even he heard the tone in his own voice; fighting a rearguard action, a lost cause.

She let go of his erection, shrugged out of the shirt, got up on one elbow. Pulled him close to her. Wrapped a leg around his. His hand left her sex to slide over her body. His hard penis pressed against her belly.

"Dad," she said, her voice firm. "I need this. I need you to ... " She stopped, and started again. "I need to be loved, like a man loves a woman. And I need you to do it for me." She leaned in and kissed him, on the lips, her mouth startlingly warm on his.

"If you can't make love to your daughter," she whispered, guiding his hand to her sex once more, and pressing it firmly into place, "then pretend I'm Mom. And make love to her. Like it's the very first time. Or the last."

He didn't move his hand away. It was a surrender, of sorts.

Unbidden, his other hand found her breast, and caressed it. Below, his hand gently rubbed her vulva, parting her labia, feeling the moisture within. Gently, his finger slid inside her. She arched her back, drawing her breath in sharply.

His fingers knew all the old tricks for exciting a woman; they were new tricks to her, and they worked very effectively indeed. He kissed her, as he had kissed his wife, and drew her to him.

Under him, she moaned, and arched her back, as he elicited pleasure from her in ways that she had never known existed. When he poised above her, his penis resting at the slippery-wet entrance to her vagina, she was ready.

Slowly, gently, responsive to her soft cries, her whispers, he slid into her. Took her for his own. Changed her life forever.

Long into the night, Danny Hebert made love to his wife, and his daughter. And sometimes, the line blurred between the two. He knew, deep down, that things would look far different in the morning.

But right now, he didn't care.

***

Taylor swam in an ocean of pleasure. Her father's gentle, experienced loving had taken her to heights of arousal that she had never imagined, never conceived. She had tried to give back the same in kind, and had perhaps succeeded. She loved her father; held him as he did these marvellous things to her body, and showed her how to do equally marvellous things to him. She wanted this night to last forever.

She knew it wouldn't, but she didn't care.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2: the Talk

Danny slowly drifted into wakefulness.

He felt ... different, this morning. More fulfilled, more complete.

Something had happened last night. Something ... different. He couldn't quite remember. But it had something to do with ...

He was holding someone in his arms, someone naked. A woman. He was naked too. His arms were about her body, his hand cupping her breast. He squeezed it gently, eliciting a _Mmmm_ from his bed partner.

Her butt was pressed up against his crotch. She wriggled it slightly. He began to harden with amazing speed, his penis uncurling to slide between her smooth thighs. He reached down, sliding his hand over her stomach, between her thighs, rubbed at her. Felt moisture, arousal.

She parted her thighs slightly, reached down herself. Tucked the head of his penis into herself. He moved his hips ever so slightly, slid into her, the hot slippery vaginal canal enclosing him.

"Mmmm, Dad," she said. "That feels so nice."

 ** _Dad?_**

He jerked all the way awake, his hips bucking involuntarily, sliding much father into her, the pleasure indescribable. She turned her head to smile at him lazily.

"Good morning," she murmured.

And _then_ he remembered what he'd done last night, and who he'd done it with. And to.

Despite his arousal, despite the urgent warmth of her, he pulled back, slipping out of her.

"Taylor," he gulped. "Taylor. What. No."

She pushed the covers back, exposing her nakedness and his. Rolled over to face him.

"Dad?" she said.

He was beginning to shake. "Taylor. What we did last night was _wrong."_

"Dad," she said, pleading. "It was only wrong once you knew it was me. Before then, did it _feel_ wrong? Because it didn't feel wrong to me."

He shook his head. "No," he said. "It's incest. It's wrong. We shouldn't have done it. I shouldnt't have done it to you. It was wrong of me."

"But I wanted it," she said, tears in her eyes. "I _wanted_ to do it. I wanted to do one beautiful thing, have one beatiful memory, that they couldn't spoil, couldn't take away from me."

"No," he said. "It's wrong. Even if you started it ..." he recalled more of what had happened. She may have started it, but he had certainly participated, willingly and repeatedly, once she had brought down his defenses. His voice trailed off. Taylor had rolled over, facing away, and half-curled into a ball.

"Taylor?" he asked.

Her shoulders shook. She was crying.

"Taylor," he said more gently, reaching out and turning her over to face him. "Taylor. Speak to me. I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. I'm sorry."

She looked at him with a tear-stained face.

"Dad," she said. "Last night, before we went to bed, you promised that if I wanted to talk to you about anything, anything at all, we could talk. Is that still a promise?"

"Of course it is," he replied automatically.

"Then I want to talk to you about this," she said softly, wiping tears away. "Not just have you telling me 'no' all the time. I want to say things, and I want you to listen, and I want you to tell me what you really feel, instead of just blocking everything out. Can we do that?"

He _had_ made that promise. _And I have to keep it._

"Okay, kiddo," he said. "We'll talk. Over breakfast. Fully dressed." He realised his eyes had not left her body once. "We don't need the distraction."

She nodded. "That's fair." Reaching under the pillow, she retrieved the t-shirt she normally slept in. It took her a little more scouting under the covers to find her loose panties. Watchng her moving about on the bed, twisting and turning, her small breasts stretching into interesting shapes, Danny found his arousal returning in almost embarrassing proportions. Sliding off the bed, she walked from the room, not bothering to dress.

He watched her all the way, then looked down at his rampant erection.

"I guess it'll be a _cold_ shower today, then," he sighed.

***

The cold shower didn't help as much as he had hoped. Sitting at the table over breakfast, he eyed her t-shirt and jeans, and could easily recall the slender young body with which he had given – and taken – so much pleasure the night before. He was already half-hard, just looking at her fully clothed.

"So, Dad," she said. "Let's talk." There was a brittle quality to her voice, as though she were expecting him to reject her words, treat her like a child.

 _What happens if I do that? he asked himself. If I just reject what she says, out of hand?_

 _Then whatever good comes from last night ... is gone,_ he realised. _I will have rejected her. She won't even have me to rely on._

 _And what will she do then?_ He really, really didn't want to know.

"Yes," he said. "Let's talk."

She took a deep breath. "Last night ... I asked you to make love with me. And you did. And it was beautiful." She looked at him directly. "Tell me it wasn't."

He shook his head helplessly. "I can't, Taylor. It was ... " He paused. "God forgive me, it was like having your mother back. Just for one night."

She reached across the table, took his hand. He squeezed it tightly.

"Dad," she said steadily. "You didn't rape me. I _asked_ you to do it. I _wanted_ it."

He frowned. "But ... you're so _young."_

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Dad, half my classmates are regularly having sex. All you have to do is listen to their conversations."

"I didn't need to hear that," he said automatically. "Far too much information."

"No, Dad," she said. "It's information you need to have. I'm sexually mature. I can have sex. It won't break me." She grinned slightly. "I _did_ have sex last night ... or rather, I made love. And it was good. Really, really good."

"You're not ... sore?" he asked. "Not in pain?"

She shook her head. "A little tender," she admitted. "But not sore. There was no pain at all after you broke my hymen." She smiled at him. "So tell me. What exactly is wrong with what we did last night?"

 _It's just_ _ **wrong**_ **.** But he knew that was the wrong answer. He had to use logic.

"The chance of pregnancy, especially with a genetically damaged child?" he said, more asking than telling.

"You had a vasectomy, years ago," she reminded him. "I heard you and Mom talking about it once."

"Okay," he said. "How about psychological damage? This could really screw you up."

She chuckled. "Look at me, then remember what state I was in last night, and tell me about psychological damage."

 _Dammit, she's shooting all my points down before they even get in the air._

"It's against the law," he said weakly.

"So is going to church without a rifle," she riposted. "So is letting me get on top like you did last night. So we were breaking the law twice over. Did it feel wrong to you either way?"

He shook his head. It hadn't.

"Wait," he said. "Going to church without a rifle is against the law?"

She nodded. "I read up on silly laws for this state awhile ago for a class project, and those were two I remembered." She paused. "I'm trying to make a point here. Laws were made for reasons, but sometimes those reasons no longer apply. Or were stupid to begin with, like the law that women can't get on top. And okay, incest is against the law, but I can't think of a valid reason other than that why what we did last night was wrong. Can you?"

She looked at him searchingly, trying to get a hint of what he was thinking about _. I'm not altogether sure that what we did last night was_ _ **right**_ _, she told herself, but I'm not so sure that it was_ _ **wrong,**_ _either. It did feel so right. And I feel ..._ _ **alive**_ _, today. The world is brighter. There is more beauty._

 _I don't regret it. I'd do it again._

 _I just hope Dad doesn't hate me for it. I don't know if I could handle that._

***

He thought about her words. He had promised that they could talk, and so he would hold to his promise.

 _What we did last night,_ he thought, _has had an effect on her. She's brighter, sharper. She looks happier. She's ... proactive. Aggressive, almost.  
_  
He thought about that. _Last night, she was a shadow of herself. When she went up to bed, she was on autopilot. There was no drive to her._

 _Today ... she's arguing with me on the merits of incest, and winning. Drive? She's got more drive than a trainyard full of locomotives._ And then another thought occurred to him _. But she's trying so very hard to convince me of the rightness of what we did, or at least, that it wasn't wrong._

 _If I reject what she's saying, it'll be like rejecting_ _ **her**_ _,_ that quiet little voice inside reminded him.

 _That could destroy her._

 _Plus, I'm not altogether sure she_ _ **is**_ _wrong._

***

He took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Let's say that maybe, just maybe, there's some point to what you are saying." He smiled, and held her hand in both of his. "What we did last night was frowned upon, but after all that's been done to you, I think you're allowed a little rule-breaking of your own."

"Thanks, Dad,," she began. "I –"

He held up a finger. "Not finished, kiddo," he said gently. She shut up. "Now," he continued. "I can't think of a single physical reason that we shouldn't have done that. And I can see the result. You're _alive_ today, in a way you weren't yesterday. For that, alone, I am truly thankful. And," he cleared his throat, "yes, it was very, very special to me too. It allowed me to say goodbye to your mother at last."

She felt tears in her eyes. "Oh, Dad ..."

He smiled across at her; tears were bright in his eyes as well. "But we really can't do this too often," he said, wiping at them. "Really, we shouldn't do it at all. There doesn't appear to be any trauma from this time, but if we keep doing it, there may end up being some sort of problem, and I really don't want to put that on you."

He took a deep breath. "Besides, you know how easy it is to tell two teenagers who have started sleeping together. They barely even know they're putting out signals to everyone who can see it. If we get into the habit, we're likely to do that as well. And if the wrong person gets the right idea, then I could be in really, really deep trouble. Because you're fifteen, not of the age of consent, and I took your virginity. That's a double strike right there."

She nodded soberly. "I hear what you are saying, Dad. I really do. So we just chalk this up to something wonderful that we never do again?"

"Basically," he agreed. "It was something wonderful," he said with a nod. "Something we shouldn't have done. But if I had it to do over again, and you climbed into my bed, and seduced me as you did ... I'd do it again."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Dad," she said. "That means a lot to me."

***

They stood from the table. She helped him clear the dishes. As they washed up together, they chatted. This time, she held up her end of the conversation, and even told a thoroughly filthy joke that had him laughing so hard that he nearly dropped a dish.

He would have said that he had never felt so much like her father at that point, except that when the dishes were done, she turned to him and gave him a most un-daughterly kiss, causing his nerve endings to tingle and his penis to stir a little in interest.

"Hey now," he murmured. "I think we agreed, no signals that we've slept together."

She grinned at him. "This is inside the house. Besides, that was me kissing the man who made me feel so good last night."

He shook his head. "You're incorrigible."

She giggled.

"So," he said, trying to regain his composure, "what did you have planned for today?"

"Actually," she said. "I was thinking I want to do something good with my body. I'm going to start running. Build a little muscle, lose a little fat. Firm things up again." She grinned at him. "And then I might go shopping. I need to update my wardrobe. I've been depressed for too long."

He frowned. "Not sure I like the idea of you running," he said dubiously.

She sighed. "I'll carry pepper spray, okay?" She brightened. "Want to come help me pick clothes out?"

He considered that.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I think I do. And we'll get you that pepper spray at the same time."

Her hug was spontaneous and enthusiastic. He tried not to think about the hard little breasts pushing into his chest, and hugged her back.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go shopping."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: Shopping Daze

Danny parked the truck outside the Weymouth mall, and looked with dismay at the crowds surging in and out of the building.

"Christ," he said despairingly. "We had to pick Christmas Eve to do our shopping."

Taylor grabbed his hand and grinned. "Come on, Ebenezer Scrooge. Let's go brave the crowds, and maybe grab each other a last-minute Christmas present while we're at it. Plus, clothes. I want to look like I feel."

"And how do you feel?" he asked curiously.

She grinned at him. "Like a million dollars. Because something really wonderful happened last night."

He sighed; her enthusiasm was infectious. Not resisting all that much, he allowed himself to be towed in among the massed crowds.

Herds of shoppers roamed the concourse, spooking suddenly and diving into those shops which displayed signs like SALE! and 50% OFF FOR XMAS! Taylor ignored those, heading for the shops that sold the clothes she liked. Then suddenly, she spotted something she wanted. "Dad –" she said.

He was looking in another direction. "Taylor –" he said.

They looked at each other. "I'll be right back," each said, at exactly the same time.

***

Taylor entered the shop; it wasn't one she normally went to, generally getting her stuff at a lower quality and a much lower price. But for this instance, she wanted the occasion to be really special, so she went all out. A very nice, very discreet saleslady assisted her in making the right purchases, picking out exactly what looked best.

As she exited the shop, she folded the distinctive bag and shoved it into her handbag, so that Danny would not know what she'd gotten.

Picking a moment when he was looking the wrong way, she sneaked up to him. "I'm back," she said into his ear. His look of startlement was so cute. She wanted to drag him into a niche and do interesting things to him.

But no; he'd specified no public displays of affection. Which, she had to admit, was a really smart idea. Because given her current feelings about him, could get out of control.

"So what did you get?" he asked. She noted that he was not showing her what he had gotten.

"Sorry, Dad, it's a secret till tomorrow. But I think you'll like it." She grinned and grabbed his hand again. "Come on. Clothes await."

And then she saw her. Emma. Along with Sophia and Madison. Right in the middle of the concourse. She recalled the flute, lying forlornly atop the heap of trash. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one of them had taken it, just to screw with her head a little more.

She let go her father's hand, and marched up to Emma. Emma was chatting to Sophia, didn't see her immediately. Sophia saw her, eyes widening slightly.

"Emma," she said clearly. "I want it back. I don't care how. I won't press criminal charges. But I do want it back."

Emma stared at her. "Want what back, Hebert? Your mom?" There was a titter from the girls around her, and then Danny loomed over her.

"That was cruel and uncalled for, Emma Barnes," he said from right behind her. "I believe I will tell your father what you just said."

She jumped about six inches in the air. Taylor was still fighting down the anger and pain that the mention of her mother had brought up. She raised her voice. "Sophia, Madison. I don't care who's got it. I don't care what state it's in. My mother's flute. I want it back."

"Or what?" sneered Sophia. With an eye toward Danny, who was still glaring at Emma, she added, "Not that I know where your stupid flute is. But just asking."

Taylor looked her dead in the eye. "Sophia," she said. "You do not want to find that out." Her tone was flat, dead level. She had no idea what she meant, what sort of threat she was making, or how she was going to carry it out, but the flinch that she got from Sophia was worth more than gold bullion.

Reaching out, she grabbed Danny's hand. "Come on," she said. "We're done here."

She towed him away through the crowds; his head was still turned toward Emma; fixing her with a glare.

***

"Uh ... Soph?" said Emma, once Mr Hebert and Taylor were out of sight. How the hell can a man that tall go unseen?

"No," said Sophia steadfastly.

"I haven't even told you what I want."

Sophia shook her head. "I know what you want. You want to clear little Miss Taylor's locker out before the third. Before school lets back in."

"Well – yeah," said Emma. "When she opens it, and there's all that crap in there, she'll be able to point to me as someone who did it, and her father will be able to back her up as a witness."

Sophia sneered. "One comment? Not connected to her locker? Like he'll be able to make that stick."

Emma shook her head. "Soph, I could really get in trouble here."

Sophia gave her a flat stare. "Funny, I thought I just heard a whiner speaking, not a survivor."

Emma shut up. But she didn't stop worrying.

Sophia was also thinking. Hebert's growing a spine at last? I want to see how this plays out.

***

"I don't believe she said that to you," Danny said. "I really don't. I am going to be calling Alan as soon as we get home. Emma needs to be spoken to."

Taylor nodded. "Okay, Dad," she said. "She said it in your hearing. It's not me causing problems for her." She stopped and gave him a hug.

"What's that for?" he asked, but he hugged her back anyway.

"For being here. For hearing that. For giving Emma a bad moment." She giggled. "The look on her face! I'm going to treasure that moment."

He didn't look pleased. "What she said ..."

"Is no worse than what she's said a hundred times before," said Taylor wearily. "It's just that, this time you heard her." She looked up. "Ah, here we are."

***

Danny found himself relegate to sitting in a chair, giving critiques on the clothes she took into the changing room and thereafter emerged wearing. He deliberately approved those clothes with the brightest colours, including some summer-weight outfits which looked particularly fetching on her. A couple of the t-shirts looked like they would show some belly; he figured that by the time it got warm enough to wear them, she would have firmed up her belly some.

She tried out the last thing, a rathe skimpy bikini, and he found himself getting somewhat aroused; despite this reaction, or perhaps because of it, he approved it.

She came over to him with her purchases, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for that, Dad," she said with a giggle. "I appreciate it." Then she leaned in and whispered, "And I saw how you were looking at me with the bikini. If you want, I can give you a very private showing at home ..."

He felt his throat go dry. "Um ... if you want?" he ventured.

She smiled widely and hugged him. "You're the best, Dad!" she said happily. Grabbing him by the hand once more, she dragged him away again. "Let's get something to eat from the food court before we try to get out of here."

"Good point," he said,

***

The food court was packed, of course, but she and Danny managed to grab themselves some food and a table. They dropped their purchases under the table and started eating. Danny found himself watching Taylor.

She funally noticed this, and coloured slightly "Why are you looking at me like that, Dad?" she asked, a little self-consciously. "Have I got something in my teeth or something?"

He shook his head with a smile. "No, kiddo," he said fondly. "I'm just enjoying sitting here, eating with my daughter." He reached out and put his hand on hers; she froze, looking at him with a surprised expression.

And then she turned her hand over and clasped his fingers with hers. "No more," she said softly, "than I'm enjoying being here with my Dad."

He felt a great surge of love and affection for her, and he squeezed her hand gently. She squeezed back.

Taylor felt a tap on the shoulder. She looked around curiously; a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair up in some sort of braid, and a knowing smile, was standing there.

"Excuse please, could we borrow your salt?" asked the girl.

Taylor shrugged. "Sure," she said.

The girl took it, then leaned close to her ear. "Probably shouldn't hold hands like that in public," she murmured. "Peoplr might ger the right idea."

Taylor flinched, pulling her hand from Danny's grasp. She realised belatedly that they had been doing just that; sitting there with silly grins plastered across their faces,holding hands in public. She turned to thank the girl – how did she know about us? – but she was gone, joining three other teeens on the way out of the food court.

***

"What was that all about, Lisa?"

"Nothing, Brian. Just ... that girl there, and her dad? It's complicated, but they're having sex."

"Kinky."

"Shut up, Alec."

"Should we tell the authorities? I mean, that sort of abuse ..."

Lisa shook her head. "No. She's the one who's initiating it. Like I said, it's complicated."

"Don't see what's complicated about it. If they want to fuck, let 'em fuck."

Everyone looked at Rachel. She shrugged. "What?"

Lisa shook her head with a slight smile. "Never mind."

"Anyway," said Brian. "Not our problem. And we still haven't done our shopping."

"Don't see why we have to."

Brian sighed. "Because we're a team, Rachel. And teams do things together."

"I hate this. Hate the crowds. And they won't let me bring the dogs inside."

Brian and Lisa shared a glance for a second. Bitch in this crowd, with dogs at her disposal? It would be frankly horrifying.

Alec chuckled. "Now, that I'd like to see. You'd clear the place out faster than an Endbringer siren."

Lisa and Brian spoke at the same time. "Shut up, Alec."

***

Taylor was silent all the way out to the truck.

Danny wasn't quite sure what was going on in her head; the girl had taken the salt, said something to Taylor, and her face had gone white.

They got into the vehicle, and sat there as the heater warmed the air inside.

"What happened in there?" asked Danny. He didn't have to specify when.

"That girl ..." said Taylor slowly. "She knew. She knew what we did last night. That we're father and daughter, and that we've had sex."

"Made love," he corrected absently.

"Whatever," she said impatiently. "The fact is, she knew."

"But how?" he asked.

She shrugged helplessly.

"Could she be stalking you?" he asked. "Looking to blackmail you?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't have that vibe. She basically warned me that we were holding hands like a couple of lovesick teens."

"And you don't know who she was."

She shook her head. "Never saw her before."

He heaved a sigh. "Well, keep an eye out for her. If she starts stalking us, we might have to go to the police. In the meantime ..." He didn't have to finish. No more sex.

She sighed. "But I wanted to ..."

He shook his head. "Too risky."

"Can I at least kiss you?"

He frowned and relented. "Upstairs, with the blinds drawn only."

She nodded. "Okay." She didn't like it, but it made sense.

He put the truck into gear, moved off.

He supposed he should feel relieved that they had an excuse to not have sex any more. But was he? He couldn't tell.

Taylor did not say another word all the way home.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: Resolutions

The front door slammed open as Taylor pushed past Danny. Clutching her bags to her chest, she made for the stairs.

"Taylor ..." said Danny, raising one hand slightly.

She stopped and turned around, her eyes bright with tears.

"What?" she snapped. " _What?"_

"I was just going to say," ventured Danny, "that it's not that bad. We can talk about this."

"Talk about _what?"_ yelled Taylor. "I was just starting to get my life in order, just starting to think straight, and this fucking thing happens. And the one good thing, the one nice thing, in my life is done, it's _gone_ , because someone I've never seen before says _one fucking thing_ to me, and it overturns _everything."_

She took a deep, sobbing breath. "Fuck it. Fuck her, fuck them, fuck everything. Fuck life. I'm fucking _done."_

Turning, she stomped up the stairs, hitting every tread with enough force to shake the ceiling. Disappeared around the corner. Slammed the door into her room.

A moment later, he heard her voice, barely muffled by intervening walls, a wail of anguish and anger despair and loss. **_"_** ** _FUUUUUCK!"_**

***

She lay on her bed, knees up to her chest, arms curled tightly about them. She wasn't crying anymore; although her pillow was wet with the tears already shed, she was all cried out.

She wanted to scream, rage, throw things. She wanted to go into the bathroom and find her father's straight razor. She wanted to hurt someone. She wanted to hurt herself.

The _one thing_ she had found that made life worth living again, that made her feel beautiful, a worthwhile person, and it had been taken away from her by a stranger in the middle of a shopping mall.

It was worse, this time around, because she had had something good within her grasp, and it had been taken away. It wasn't hers any more. It never had been.

 _I can't do that again. I can't climb that hill again. I've fallen too far. It's too much effort. I used it all up getting here. And now I'm back to square one._

She closed her eyes tightly. Imagined standing in the shower. The water as hot as it would go. Taking the razor, opening it. Touching it to her wrist under the hot water. Sliding it down, along the vein. The skin parting, the blood running free.

Repeating with her other wrist, just to be sure.

She imagined the lassitude, the weariness that would come as the blood ran down the drain. Falling to her knees, slumping on to her side. Her last sight being blood mixing with water, running down the drain.

 _And then ... nothing._

 _No pain, no fear, no anger. Nothing._

 _I'll just ... stop._

 _It'll be over._

 _Sure, it'll mean that they win, but who the fuck cares? I'm not going to win, not against them. Why_ _ **shouldn't**_ _I take the easy way out?_

She imagined the shower scene again, and her imagination began to paint ever more lurid pictures. Slicing her own nipples off, or even her entire breasts. Cutting her cheeks open, so that the blood ran like tears. Gashing her belly, so that her intestines spilled out on to the floor. Tearing, slicing, hacking between her own legs, taking away the part of her that had brought her happiness so briefly, and then let her down so cruelly.

 _It would be so easy._

There was a gentle tap on the door.

She didn't respond.

It came again.

She took a deep breath. "Go away!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Taylor," she heard from outside the door. "Can I come in? Please?"

She didn't have the strength for another scream. Opening her eyes, she was almost surprised to see that the sheets were not drenched with blood, so deeply had she been immersed in the self-mutilation imagery.

 _Fuck it._ "Come in, Dad," she said wearily. _I can't fight anything anymore._

He opened the door and entered, walking quietly.

She stubbornly faced the wall, refused to roll over, even acknowledge his presence.

"Taylor," he said gently.

She said nothing. _Go away._

"Taylor," he said again. "I brought cookies and milk. Would you like some?"

Such was the surprise at his words that she twisted her head around to stare. He indeed bore a tray with a pitcher of milk two glasses and a plate of cookies upon it.

There were other things on the tray, but she fixated on the cookies. They smelled _delicious_. Her traitorous stomach growled. She started at the sound. "How long," she began, her voice raw, then she started again. "How long have I been up here?"

"Three hours, more or less," he said. "I decided to make the cookies and bring them up to you, after the first hour."

The pain, the love, in his face and voice were almost more than she could bear. Carefully, she unwrapped her arms from her knees, wincing at the complaints from joints that had been locked same position for far too long. He placed the tray on her bedside table and assisted her in sitting upright on the edge of the bed. Then he sat beside her and placed the tray across his knees.

He poured milk from the pitcher; they both drank. She almost groaned from pleasure as the cold liquid hit her stomach. He held a freshly-baked cookie for her to eat; she nibbled at it, snapped playfully at his fingers. It was wonderful.

When the cookies were done, he put the tray aside. "Taylor," he said softly, "I'm going to ask you to do something for me, and I'm going to ask you to trust me while you do it."

The serious tone to his voice got her attention. "What is it, Dad?" she asked.

He took a pad of paper from the tray and handed it to her along with a pen. "I want you to write down all the bad thoughts, all the bad feelings, that you've been having over the last three hours, down on this pad. Then I want you to tear it off and fold it up and give it to me."

She stared at him, stricken. "Dad - I -". _If I do that, he'll know what I want to do._

"Taylor," he said, his voice still soft, his gaze intent. "Trust me. Please."

So she did it. She took the pad and pen and sat back up on the bed, against the headboard with the pad on her knees, and wrote.

 _Dad, she wrote, I'm really sorry that I'm going to be doing this to you, but I see no other way out of this. I want to die. If I can't feel happy and beautiful, making love to you, then I want to die ugly and sad._

 _I will be taking your razor and I will be cutting my breasts off, because they feel so good when you suck on my nipples. Then I will slash my face, because I want to look as ugly as I feel. Then I will slash up my pussy -_ she paused, scratched that out, and wrote _CUNT - and cut my guts open, so that I don't even look like a woman any more. Then, if I haven't died yet, I will slash my wrists._

 _I'll be out of your life then, and you won't have to deal with having a perverted slut of a daughter who wants you to shove your cock into her cunt every night just so that she can feel like a human being._

 _Your daughter,_

 _Taylor_

Tears were running down her face as she finished. She tore off the top few pages, roughly folded them, and handed them to him. She didn't know how he would react, but if the nausea she felt when writing it was any indication, he would be disgusted and repulsed. His anger, his judgement, his rejection, would only make it easier to do what she needed to do.

He took the folded pages. "Thank you, Taylor," he said gravely.

Then he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the folded paper at one corner. She stared, her jaw dropping open. He held it for a few seconds, turning the paper one way and another, to make sure it had all caught, then dropped it into the metal wastepaper can he had hooked over with one foot. Leaning over, he watched it burn to ashes with a look of vague interest, while she continued to stare at him.

"What?" he asked mildly, turning to her.

"You - you burned it," she stammered. _He didn't read it! He burned it!_ exulted an inner voice.

"Well, yes _,"_ he agreed. "I didn't want to _read_ it. I just wanted you to _write_ it. Now it's written, so it's out of your head, and it's burned, so neither of us ever has to worry about reading it."

He stood up, brushing cookie crumbs off of his knees. Collecting the tray and the pad, he went to walk to the door. Then he stopped. "You know, Taylor," he said, "I don't think I got a good look at some of those clothes you tried on, back in the store. Could you do me a favour and model some of them for me again?". Reaching out, he pressed a packet into her hand. "Start with this one.".

As he reached the door, he glanced back. "Oh, and you might want to wash your face and brush your hair; you look a fright.". A grin at her outraged look, then the door closed behind him.

Hands moving slowly, as in a dream, she opened the packet.

It was the bikini. The very _skimpy_ bikini, that had aroused him so much.

 _He wants me to model it for him._

 _He wants to see me in it._

 _He wants me._

She began to tear her clothes off.

***

Danny looked up as she appeared at the top of the stairs. He had pulled all the blinds and turned the lights on, so that he could admire her in all her glory as she slowly descended the steps.

It was not through reluctance that she took so long, but a desire to give him a show, let him see what she had. And every step she took, he appreciated what he saw more and more, as evidenced by the growing bulge in his boxers.

She had taken the time to freshen up with a shower, brush her hair out thoroughly, and put on just a dab of makeup. Her hair was tied back, the ponytail swaying out of time with her hips as she made her way down the stairs.

She was beautiful, and she knew it. And it showed in her posture, the proud angle of her jaw, and the secret smile on her face as she watched her father's growing arousal.

The bikini could not be counted as clothing, especially the way she was wearing it. Technically, it covered her. But in reality, it acted more like punctuation, accentuating the curves she barely had, and glorifying the ones she did have.

She got to the bottom of the stairs and did her best to undulate over to him, her hands up behind her head, elbows out, to enhance her bust. Stopping in front of him, she turned slowly around, running her hands down inside the bikini bottom to cup and squeeze her buttocks, deliberately leaving the cloth only half-covering the firm, taut flesh as she turned back to face him.

As she did so, she undid the bikini top and let it fall free, held up only by her hands over her breasts. And then she moved her hands, dropping the top, exposing her firm, small breasts to him.

Leaning over, she put her hands on the back of the sofa and let him lick and suck at her nipples, while his hands caressed her buttocks and rubbed at her moist sex; she gasped and spread her thighs to allow him access.

Looking him directly in the eye, she murmured, "Take them off me, Dad."

He reached up, took hold of the strings binding the bikini bottom closed, and tugged. The knots came loose, and the flimsy scrap of cloth fell away. She was naked to his view, naked to his touch. His hand went to her sex once more, rubbed gently, spread her swollen labia. She was slick to the touch; he slid a finger into her. It went in easily; she bit her lip, making a noise deep in her throat.

Abruptly she tugged at his boxers. He assisted her by lifting his ass and scooting it forward on the sofa. Once the boxers were off, she straddled him, reaching down to ensure his pens was on target. It was; as he slid into her, she sank down upon his lap with a sigh.

Her lips found his; they kissed hungrily. At the same time, she began to grind her hips in a circle, rocking them back and forth, driving herself wild with the sensations of his penis moving within her vagina.

It was just as good to Danny; as she rocked and clenched and twisted, he felt his arousal increasing tremendously, her slippery wetness doing amazing things to his throbbing erection. He felt his climax approaching rapidly, and grabbed her buttocks, squeezing hard as he thrust deeply into her.

Her face was screwed up in an almost painful grimace as she bore down upon him, seeking the climax that seemed just out of reach. And then she felt his thumb on her clitoris, and she exploded, her back arching, her breasts jutting into his face.

She clenched her teeth as she climaxed, her eyes screwed shut, hissing air in an attempt to not scream out loud. Her stomach muscles rippled; her vaginal canal clenched around his penis, even as Danny continued to slide in and out of her.

He grunted as he reached his own orgasm, his semen jetting deep into her secret depths. She felt the warmth blooming within her, and came again and again. And with each spasm of ecstasy, she saw the mental pictures she had conjured earlier, burning as her written confession had burned in the wastepaper bin.

The razor reducing her womanhood to shreds. _Gone_. Slashing her belly open. _Gone_. Cutting her face. _Gone_. Slicing her breasts off. _Gone_. Opening her wrists up. _Gone_.

As she shuddered through the last throes of the orgasm, with her father's cum still warm in her womb, she could not find, could not recall a single one of the gory images of self-destruction, self-loathing. They were gone. She was still there.

She slumped over her father, leaning against him as his arms went around her. She kissed him; he returned the favour. Her breath sobbed in her throat; sweat ran down her back.

"Oh god, Dad," she said, panting. "That was ..." she didn't have the words.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It was."

They sat in companionable silence, as his erection slowly diminished and slid from her still-slippery vagina.

"Not that I'm complaining," she murmured, "but why ...?"

"Why are we making love again?" he asked. He grinned at her, and planted a kiss on her lips. "Well, it _might_ have something to do with that bikini that you were almost wearing when you came down the stairs."

She nipped playfully at his nose. "You _know_ what I mean, Dad," she giggled.

He heaved a deep sigh. "I thought about it," he said. "And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that what the girl gave us was a friendly warning to not be caught, not that we were under surveillance."

She hugged him tightly. "But what if you were wrong?" she asked. "What if you get in trouble for it anyway?"

He hugged her back. "I thought about that, too," he said. "Then I thought, fuck it. I'd rather have you back, happy and alive, than worry for the rest of my life over something that might never happen."

She pulled back and stared at him. "So … that was your logic? Just … fuck it?"

He nodded, a grin teasing his face. 'Yeah. Fuck it."

For some reason, that seemed incredibly funny to her. She started laughing, and soon he joined in. Naked, straddling his lap, his semen leaking out of her, she laughed and laughed and laughed.

She was still giggling helplessly when he lifted her off him, got up, and picked her up in his arms. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, she had her arms around his neck, kissing him.

He entered his bedroom, and carefully placed her on the bed. She scooted to the middle, then watched him climb on beside her.

Slowly, gently, letting him coach her, she brought him to full erection with her mouth, tongue and lips, and hands. And then she lay back in the posture as old as Eve, and smiled welcomingly at him.

"Please, Dad," she said very softly. "Make love to me."

And he did.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5: Christmas and Beyond

Taylor woke up in her own bed. She stretched luxuriantly, then rolled over and snuggled in. She was naked, she realised, and there were sticky patches on her body which confirmed that she and her father had gotten up to quite a bit on the previous night.

She smiled as she recalled some of those bits and pieces; Dad might need a little convincing to give with the loving, but once he let his hair down, he did not do it by half measures. She was still a little tender here and there, but tender in a very nice, very loving way.

She wondered vaguely why he had put her to bed, and then realised that her father was still trying to keep up some level of normality in their relationship, and fathers and daughters did not make a practise of sleeping in the same bed. It was kind of sweet, in a way.

She heard the shower running, and realised that he was up. A naughty impulse had her climbing out of bed before she really thought about it; she padded naked to the bathroom and opened the door.

He was running water through his hair when she entered, so he didn't know she was there until she pulled aside the shower curtain and put her arms around him from behind.

"Good morning, Dad," she said softly, nuzzling up to his back.

He turned in her arms and put his own arms around her. His penis started rising almost immediately, intruding between them.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo," he said, and kissed her. The sentiment may have been banal, but the kiss was anything but. By the time it was over, she was wet with more than just water, and his penis was stiff and hard between them.

She went to her knees, his erection tracing its way up her body, between her small breasts, to her chin. Cupping his testicles in one hand, and slowly working the shaft with the other, she began to suck on him, running her tongue over his length, and then letting the first few inches slide into her mouth.

He groaned and leaned against the walls of the shower stall as she brought him to a blinding orgasm, feeling his hips jerk as he shot wad after wad of cum into his daughter's mouth and over her face and body.

She grinned up at him as the shower washed the white splashes off her skin. "Merry Christmas, Dad," she said with a giggle. "Was that a nice present?"

"Taylor," he said feelingly, "you are a very naughty girl, and I'm going to bend you over and punish you for it, once I get my strength back."

Taylor snuggled into his embrace. "Don't you mean bend me over your knee?"

He shook his head. "I meant what I said." His hand found her sex, and a finger slid into her. "I'm going to bend you over and punish you." She gasped as his finger slid in and out of her slippery vulva, sending waves of pleasure through her. "Over and over again."

She moaned and clutched at his back. "Do it now," she breathed. "Here, in the shower."

He shook his head, and grinned. "Punishment is all about anticipation." Deliberately, he took his finger out of her. "Now I'm just going to let you suffer for a while."

"Dad!" she complained. 'You're _mean!"_

"Never said I wasn't," he agreed, stepping out of the shower and grabbing his towel. "Don't take too long. Breakfast will be on the table soon, and then we can open the presents."

"Okay, Dad." She grinned. _I'm definitely looking forward to opening the presents._

***

Given that it was Christmas Day, both of them were wearing bathrobes when they sat down to breakfast. Taylor's hair was brushed out and tied back, and she seemed once more to be wearing makeup.

He was puzzled; he knew for a fact that her scandalously-skimpy bikini was still lying on the floor in front of the sofa where it had been discarded during their love play the previous evening. And she hadn't bought two bikinis of that type, he was sure. _What is she up to?_

He shrugged. _Maybe I'm overthinking things. Maybe she just wants to look good for me._

But he could not be sure.

***

When breakfast was over, they went and sat by the small tree. Putting the presents under it seemed like a silly little Christmas tradition to have, but it kept them together as a family.

Taylor reached under the tree and pulled out a large rectangular parcel, which she handed to her father. He read the label - _To Dad, from Taylor and Mom_ \- and his eyes filled with tears. He hugged her silently; they never spoke of it, but at least one present every Christmas had her mother's name on it, to keep her alive in their memories.

When he opened the present, he hugged her again; it was the _Definitive Guide to the History of Brockton Bay and Its Environs_ that he had been looking for, for some months now.

"Thank you, Taylor," he said. "I really appreciate it."

She grinned at him, leaning into the hug. "I love you, Dad," she said fondly, and somehow it meant more to him than all the times she had gasped it out while they were frantically coupling in his bed.

"I love you too, kiddo," he said, and handed her a package of her own

She opened it, noting that her mother had also had a hand in getting this parcel to her, and discovered that she was the owner of a brand new top-of-the-line electronic tablet.

"Oh wow, Dad," she sad. "This is so cool.". She turned around and hugged him, giving him a real father-daughter kiss on the cheek, as befitted the occasion. He held her tightly, just for the moment enjoying having his daughter and not his lover in his arms.

Other presents changed hands; he had gotten her a brightly coloured sundress when she was not looking, and she had found him an authentic-looking pocket watch in a second-hand store. She was so enchanted with the sundress that she disappeared into the kitchen to put it on, leaving him scratching his head at her newfound modesty.

When she returned, he had two last parcels in hand. "One of these is for me, and one is for you," he said solemnly. "Let's just say, it's a matching pair."

Curious, she opened hers, to find a mobile phone. Frowning, she looked from it to the identical model that he held. "Dad, I thought you didn't like these things," she said.

"I don't," he said bluntly. "But ... I worry about you, running on your own. So I got you that. It's got my number on speed dial, and all other numbers blocked. Mine is set up the same way for yours."

She put her hand over his. "Wow, Dad," she said softly. "That's so sweet.". She smiled and kissed him firmly on the lips, then stood up. "Want to see my last present for you?"

His mouth suddenly dry, he nodded.

Taking the hem of the sundress in both hands, she drew it over her head. Underneath it ... he gasped.

"Victoria's Secret," she explained with a grin. "Pricey, but from the look on your face ... _definitely_ worth it."

He couldn't keep his eyes off of her as she slowly turned for his viewing pleasure. The bikini, yesterday, had made her look sexy and slutty in a very arousing manner, but this underwear made her look _stunning._ It enhanced her natural assets in a way that only plastic surgery could better, and he felt a surge of blood to his loins.

She wore a bra and panties made from the sheerest material he could imagine; when she spread her thighs, he could clearly see her distended labia pressing at the flimsy garment. Her nipples, swollen and excited, were equally visible, and for the first time ever, she actually had a cleavage. The suspender belt and stockings were just an added fillip; somehow, they made her look insanely sexy and appealing, without any one reason that he could point to.

She looked down at him, and at his erection, which was beginning to show from under his bathrobe. "Daddy," she said softly, "I'm ready for my punishment now."

***

She clung to the end of the sofa, grunting as he drove his hard penis deep into her soft slippery wetness. This was the roughest he had been with her, and it struck sparks off of her clitoris and her nipples. This wasn't making love, she decided, in between the waves of sheer pleasure. This was just fucking. Little in the way of foreplay or tenderness or gentleness; just hardcore, raunchy bend-me-over-the-sofa sex.

She was still trying to decide whether she preferred it gentle or rough when her orgasm took her by surprise; she cried out as the pleasure sleeted through her. Her father was not far behind; even as her vaginal canal gripped and squeezed him, she could feel him going into the vinegar strokes.

And then there was a knock on the door.

Even if he had been able to want to stop, there was no way in hell that was happening. Gripping her hips even more tightly, he drove his penis deep into her over and over again, then exploded, jetting his cum deep inside her. She came again, biting her lip to keep herself quiet; only a whimper escaped her his time.

The knock came again, as he pulled out of her. "Coming," he called raggedly, then grabbed up her sundress and thrust it at her. Kicking the discarded underwear under the sofa, she wriggled into it.

Pulling his bathrobe shut - and thanking God that he had not discarded it - he approached the door. "Who is it?" he called out. Behind him, Taylor pulled the dress down over her hips and dropped on to the sofa.

"I's the Morrisons, Mr Hebert," came the reply. "From two doors down? We were walking past, heard a noise. Is everything all right?"

"Well, yes," he replied, finally getting his belt tied. He opened the door. "I gave Taylor a tablet for Christmas. She's wanted one for months. You know how teenage girls can get."

The Morrisons, an elderly couple in their sixties, peered in through the door, at where Taylor was sitting demurely on the sofa, tablet in hand. She gave them a broad smile. "It's wonderful," she said. "I'm sorry if I startled you; I got a little carried away."

"Oh, that's all right," said Henry Morrison. He turned to his wife, who was more than just a little bit of a busybody. "See, Florence? I told you there was nothing to worry about."

Danny realised that a large bead of sweat was rolling down his temple; he hoped devoutly that they would not notice.

Florence Morrison stared at Danny suspiciously and opened her mouth to say something.

"Would you like to come in for some tea?" asked Taylor brightly.

"No, no, that's just fine," said Henry. "Come along now, Florence. We've imposed on them enough already.". He started back down the steps; after a moment, she followed.

"Come over any time!" called Danny. "And thanks for watching out for us!"

Not waiting for an answer, he closed the door carefully and leaned on it.

Taylor got up from the sofa, came over to where he stood, and embraced him; he hugged her back. They were both shaking, he realised.

"That was _far_ too close," he said feelingly. She didn't answer, but her head moved in a nodding motion against his chest.

"I think ..." she said after a while, "... that it might be an idea to ease back on the sex. Just a bit. Just in case."

He nodded, and kissed the top of her head. He smiled. "You were wonderful," he said. "Inviting them in like that. How did you know it would work?"

She snuggled into his embrace. "Reverse psychology. I could see Mr Morrison was uncomfortable and wanted to go. So I gave him a choice, and he took the one he wanted. And Mrs Morrison would have decided we had something to hide if we just asked her to go away, so ..."

He nodded. "So you defused it by asking her to stay. Nicely done."

She grinned up at him, then kissed him on the lips. "Well, I'm going to go shower and change, then go for a run with my nice new phone. Getting out and about will give the Morrisons of the world less to gossip about."

He nodded seriously. "And we'd better watch the kissing and fondling thing in public as well. We only need to slip up once."

"Yeah," she agreed. She kissed him again and headed for the stairs. He noticed the large wet patch on her buttocks, where the semen leaking from her vagina had soaked through the thin cloth.

 _That might have been a little hard to explain away,_ he told himself.

 _We got away with it. This time._

As Taylor showered, he cleaned up the living room; all underwear, all wrapping paper, everything that didn't belong.

 _We're just going to have to be good for a while._

***

They continued to make love off and on over the rest of the Christmas break. But they were very circumspect about it; they only ever did it upstairs, in his bed (or once, spectacularly, in the shower) and only after dark, with the blinds drawn. Taylor stopped walking around in a state of undress, and they actually managed to reconstruct a life as father and daughter. She even slept in her bed every night, even after making love with him in his.

Of course, some things were different, and they had to be careful not to go with their impulses. Once, at the shop, he stopped himself mere seconds before he would have caressed her butt in front of everyone there. And she had to stop herself from giving him full-lip kisses when in public; a mere peck on the cheek was all she could do.

***

But on the evening of the second, with school beginning again on the third, he could tell that she was becoming more and more tense and unhappy. He tried to talk to her about it; her replies were monosyllabic and uncommunicative.

He was just preparing for bed when she appeared in the doorway. She was naked except for the bikini pants. "Dad," she said softly, "could you come to my room, please? I have a problem."

She walked away without another word; he followed her to her room.

When they reached her room, she faced him directly. "I don't want to sleep alone, Dad," she said. "Not tonight. I want you to hold me and make love to me, as gently or roughly as you want. I want to feel you inside me, feel your arms around me."

He put his arms around her. "Taylor," he said gently, "you know we have a rule that you can't sleep in my bed."

She embraced him in return. "I know," she said softly. "That's why I want you to sleep in mine."

He paused. "That's a bit ... dodgy." He frowned. "Evading the spirit of the rule."

"Dad." Her voice was near tears, the side of her face pressed against his chest. "You're all that's letting me even face the idea of going back to school tomorrow without screaming. _Please_. Be with me tonight."

She looked up at him; the tears were bright in her eyes. "Tonight I'm not your daughter. I'm not Mom, either. I'm just someone who desperately needs to be held, and to be made love to, or fucked, whichever you want to do. Just do it to me, until we can't do it any more."

The pain in her voice wounded him to the core. "Of course, Taylor," he said, holding her close. "Of course I'll sleep in your bed and hold you."

She smiled wanly, and plucked at the strings on her bikini bottom. They came loose; she was naked before him. His boxers joined them on the floor.

Together, they climbed into her bed.

***

He made love to her four times that evening, surprising even himself. She invited him to try any techniques or positions they had not attempted before; they reprised doggy-style, and while he was there, she suggested that they attempt anal. It did not go well, even with lube, so they gave it up as a bad idea, and went back to ordinary (or not so ordinary) vaginal sex.

She fell asleep before he did, and he wondered if he should sneak back to his own bed anyway. But when he attempted to ease out from under her arm, she whimpered and tightened her grip. So there he was, for the night.

He woke up once, on his back; she was astride him, fully impaled, riding him hard. He gasped her name; she did not answer. He did not try again, as his fifth climax of the night seized him and nearly took the top of his head off. She seemed to come to orgasm as well, for she slumped down over him, eyes closed, and snuggled up to him once more. He put his arms around her and held her tightly. As far as he could tell, she'd been asleep the whole time.

***

Taylor woke up; it was dark, and she was on her back with her legs open. Her father was on top of her, his penis sliding in and out of her wet slippery vagina. The sensations were indescribable. She moaned his name; he did not respond. He slid his penis into her, over and over again, until she came repeatedly. His penis erupted, deep inside her, and she grunted as he thrust hard into her, his orgasm spraying semen into her womb. As he rolled to the side, his penis slipping from her, he began to snore.

 _Was he asleep that whole time?_ she asked herself, mind still buzzing from the orgasm. _Wow, I'm going to have to do that more often._

***

The next time she woke up, it was daylight, and he was just rolling out of bed. She didn't feel like moving; she had enjoyed the previous night so very much, and she wanted to enjoy that feeling some more.

"Dad? she said, as he reached the door, not bothering to retrieve his boxers.

"Yes, Taylor?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Thanks," she said softly. "For everything. It helped. Really."

He smiled. "That's good, kiddo. I'm going to go shower, then put breakfast on."

She grinned back, and stretched. "I think I might skip my run today. I had enough exercise last night."

He chuckled. "You and me both, kiddo. You and me both."

***

He looked around as the bathroom door opened and closed. Taylor stood there, watching him dry himself. She was totally naked.

"You want the shower?" he asked.

"No," she said, stepping forward. "I want _you."_

She went to her knees and began to perform fellatio on him; he came to full erection very quickly.

"You know this is against the rules," he said, even as he lifted her on to the wash basin bench.

"Fuck the rules," she said crudely. "I just want to do this one more time before I go to school." She opened her legs wide, allowing him to slide into her. He held her buttocks, as she dug her nails into his back and kissed him passionately.

He was actually rather surprised at his ability to do it one more time, after the night of passion they had just shared. But he thrust in between her swollen labia, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, and together they came to a tumultuous climax that nearly brought the bathroom down around their ears.

Weak and shaking, she clung to him. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered. "I needed that."

His knees were equally shaky. "I think I did too," he replied with a weak grin. "Now it's time you had your shower, young lady."

She looked down and grinned. "Well, unless you want to get in there with me, you're going to have to take it out before I can."

He also looked down, chuckled self-consciously, and let his deflating penis slide out of her.

"Get in the shower, kiddo," he said, slapping her on the butt as she slid off the bench.

"Yes, Dad," she grinned.

***

She was still feeling relaxed and happy while she was getting ready for school. He noticed this, and commented on it.

She grinned at him. "Do what you did to me last night and this morning, Dad, and I'll be relaxed and happy all _week."_

They shared a fatherly/daughterly hug and kiss before he went off to work, and she went off to catch the bus for school. She had her phone in her back pocket; not that she thought she'd need it, but it was something he got for her because he cared, and so she carried it.

As she watched the scenery pass her by on the way to Winslow, she thought about the fears and apprehensions that were bothering her.

 _I wouldn't worry about it_ , she told herself. _Nothing's probably going to happen anyway._


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6: The Locker Incident

 **3:17 PM**

Director Emily Piggot of the Parahuman Response Teams steepled her fingers and observed the armoured man sitting on the other side of the desk.

"I understand there was an incident at Winslow High School this morning," she said to him. "I'll have your verbal report now."

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "We received a report at eight forty-five this morning, regarding criminal cape activity at Winslow."

"Shadow Stalker's school," Piggot put in, to show she was following matters.

Armsmaster nodded. "We attended the location. The first suspicious thing we found was a vehicle crashed into one of the school gates. The driver was nowhere around, but there was evidence suggesting that he had suffered a head injury in the accident. Running the plates gave us the name Daniel Hebert."

***

 **8:35 AM**

Danny Hebert tapped at the keys of his computer, and frowned. More paperwork screwups, all done before the Christmas break, all coming to his attention now. He sighed. _If they'd just paid attention to what they were doing, rather than watching the clock ..._

But done was done. The screwups had happened, and fixing them was his job.

A beeping from his pocket made him frown again. _Taylor?_ He didn't phones; one had featured rather too closely in his wife's death. But since Taylor was going to be running in the mornings, he had gotten her one, so she could call him if she needed help. Reluctantly he had gotten himself one, a throwaway with prepaid credit, blocked to all numbers but Taylor's.

He fished the phone from his pocket, accidentally dropped it, bent down to pick it up, and finally opened it. Pressing the green button, he held the device to his ear. "Taylor?" he said. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

" _Daaaad_!" she screamed, so loudly that he had to hold the phone away from his ear. _"Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"_

She was sobbing and retching, and in the background, he could hear a metallic banging.

He was on his feet in an instant, phone pressed tightly to his ear. She sounded hysterical, panicked, terrified. "Taylor! I'm coming! Where are you?"

" _Locker_!" she sobbed. _"Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!"_

More crashing and banging, and suddenly there was a loud thump as if the phone had been dropped. Distantly he heard her panicked babbling, more retching, and much louder banging.

 _Taylor. Oh my god, Taylor._

"I'm coming!" he shouted into the phone as loudly as he could, in the hope that she would hear him. "I'm coming! Just hold on!"

Leaving the phone open, he dropped it into his pocket, and dashed from his office. The people in the outer office, startled by the shouting, stared at him as he ran through.

"Mr Hebert ...?" ventured one of them.

"No time!" he shouted. "Family emergency!". Crashing out through the outer door, he sprinted for his truck, feeling for his keys at the same time.

The old engine caught first time, and he crashed it into gear. Still putting on his seat belt, he made the old truck roar as he accelerated for the road.

 _Taylor. ... Oh god, what have they done to you?_

***

 **3:19 PM**

"We entered the school, and found everything in an uproar," continued Armsmaster imperturbably. " A school locker had been vandalised, the door pried open. The smell was quite bad; biological waste had been packed into it and was now strewn across the floor. The cleaning staff were attempting to deal with the mess, but hadn't done very much with it. Subsequent examination of records revealed that the locker had been assigned to one Taylor Hebert. Daniel Hebert's daughter," he added unnecessarily.

He paused. "In among the biological waste," he added, not going into details as to what the waste consisted of, "we found one interesting item.". He indicated one of the two bagged objects on the desk They both looked at it; it was a flute, which had been quite badly damaged, and had some vile-looking material smeared all over it.

"Now, what do you suppose _that_ signifies?" pondered the Director.

"Ma'am, I have no idea," confessed Armsmaster. "I think we're going to have to ask Taylor Hebert."

***

 **8:24 AM**

The bell was due to ring any minute now, and Taylor would have to go into class. First day back from Christmas Break.

She'd been loitering in the bathroom; despite her brave face at standing up to Emma and the others in the Weymouth mall, she really didn't want to confront them again this soon. But she had to get her stuff out of her locker, and so ...

Approaching her locker, she saw several other students hanging around. She hoped that it was just her imagination that made it seem that they were watching her. _Just get my books and go._

There was a smell. A really bad smell. And it seemed to be hanging around her locker.

She started getting a really bad feeling about this. But she had to see.

 _What have they_ _ **done**_ _?_

She couldn't just back away, couldn't walk into class without her books. Besides, this was the new, confident, strong Taylor. _A bad smell can't stop_ _ **me**_ _._

She spun the combination lock, opened the locker.

The stench rolled out at her, enveloped her, suffocated her.

The locker was half full of … _oh my god, tampons and pads._ All blackened with semi-dried, rotted blood. Insects crawled in among them.

The smell was _indescribable_. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Everything in her locker was ruined. Involuntarily, she bent over to retch, to throw up.

And then she felt a shove, propelling her into the locker, into the filth. She felt it wrap around her legs, oozing, insect crawling, as she slammed into the back wall of the locker.

The door slammed behind her, cutting off the light. She heard excited voices outside, then the whirr of the combination lock being spun. She turned around in the tight confines, still retching, shoved at the door. It was locked.

She was shut in with the filth.

She drew a deep breath, vomited all over herself, warm puke all down her front. Drew another breath. "Let me out!" she tried to scream. It came out as a strangled gargle. She cleared her throat, clawed vomitus from her mouth with her fingers, screamed again. "LET ME OUT!"

Dim laughter from outside.

She banged at the locker door, her thoughts spiralling toward panic. The smell, the insects, the darkness.

"Oh god oh god let me out please please please!" she screamed, the begging tone evident in her voice.

She threw up again. It did not appreciably change the smell in the locker.

Oozing, sticky biological waste surged around her thighs. Insects, disturbed by the movement, crawled out of the pile and up her body, up the sides of the locker, into her hair, running across her face.

She screamed, pounded on the door, threw herself at the sides of the locker, clawed at her own face and eyes.

More cruel laughter from outside.

The bell rang.

 _Maybe they'll let me out now._

But they didn't.

They left her there.

Screaming, retching, struggling, banging on the door, throwing herself around inside the locker, she tried to get out. Failed. Her mind started spiralling in tighter and tighter turns, toward madness.

She recalled the phone Dad had given her. It was in her back pocket. She clawed for it. Found it. Nearly dropped it. Slumped against the side of the locker, clawed it open, pressed dial. Only one number.

It rang. She sobbed, retched again.

And rang. _Dad, Dad, answer me, Dad._

His voice. Normal, vaguely annoyed. The most wonderful, wonderful sound in the world.

 _"Taylor? Shouldn't you be in class?"_

"Daaaad!" she screamed, so loudly that her voice reverberated inside the locker. "Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"

She sobbed and retched, and kicked at the locker door.

 _"Taylor! I'm coming! Where are you?"_

"Locker!" she sobbed. "Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!" An insect ran over her eyeball; she screamed and flinched her whole body; the phone dropped out of her vomit-slick hand, into the ... stuff.

She didn't want to delve her hand into that stuff. The very thought made her retch again. She could vaguely hear his voice, tinny, distant. Couldn't hear what he was saying. Reached for the phone. Accidentally pushed it farther down into the mess. Lost touch with it.

"Dad!" she screamed, banging at the locker door. "Help me! Oh god, get me out of here!" She plunged her hands into the stinking mess, searching for the phone. It was her only lifeline, her only hope. _I have to find it._

***

 **8:37 AM**

Danny weaved through traffic, foot flat to the floorboards, intent on only one thing. _I have to get to Taylor_. The heel of his hand blared the horn, startling other drivers out of the way. The engine of the old truck, unused to such demands, still responded gamely, even as the temperature needle crept into the red.

***

 **3:20 PM**

"It was at this point," continued Armsmaster, "that we received a police report about an incident involving a vehicle matching the description of the one belonging to Daniel Hebert."

***

 **8:38:23 AM**

Taylor scrabbled frantically through the horrid detritus, sobbing and retching. _I have to find it._

***

Danny downshifted, powered through a gap. Saw lights up ahead. _Stay green,_ he prayed. _I have to get to Taylor._

***

The world went away.

Taylor and Danny hung in the void, side by side.

Around them, the vastness of empty space. In the far, far distance, stars and what may have been planets. Nearer, great bloated forms undulated through the cosmos. Something like worms, something like whales, quite unlike either. They brushed together, shedding bright spicules of matter, fragments, shards.

One of these ranged toward where Danny and Taylor hung, barely aware of each other, unable to speak, unable to even comprehend fully what was happening. It cracked, split, came apart. One fragment daggered into Danny, the other into Taylor.

***

The world came back.

Taylor was still trapped in the locker, still assaulted by that horrifying stench, still had bugs crawling over her. She was panicked, terrified, nauseated, overwhelmed. But in the small part of her brain that still had the capacity for rational thought, she _knew_ where her phone was.

Plunging her hand into the muck, she closed her fingers over it, clung to it like a lifeline.

 _Dad's coming._

***

Danny was still in the cab of his truck, horn blaring, engine thundering. Ahead, the lights turned red. The intersection rushed toward him. He wasn't even really aware of making the decision not to slow down, not to stop. _I have to save my little girl._

He rocketed into the intersection.

At the same time, a semi-truck, which had been downshifting for the red, changed up and accelerated. Danny was right in his path. There was not a thing either one of them could do.

He saw it coming from the corner of his eye, knew he was dead.

His last thought was one of simple regret.

 _I'll never see Taylor grow up now._

***

The driver of the semi-truck slammed on his brakes. He knew it wouldn't do a damn bit of good, but he tried anyway.

In the instant before he would have ploughed into the driver's side of the pickup truck, it disappeared in a cloud of brownish-purple smoke. Which his truck blasted right through. No tearing crunch. No impact at all. There was just the dissipating cloud of smoke.

The truck driver pulled over, put his face in his hands, and shook. After a while, he pulled out his phone and dialled the police. _They should know about this_ , he figured. Besides, he wan't up to driving a Dodgem car, right at that moment.

***

Danny became aware of ticking and creaking. He could also hear Taylor's voice, tinny and far away, calling for him. He was slumped over the steering wheel of his truck, the engine stopped or stalled. There was a massive star in the windshield directly in front of him, with a little blood smeared around it. His left knee ached abominably. He couldn't see out of his right eye at all, and his left was fuzzy. He had no idea where his glasses were.

 _I have to get to Taylor. I have to save her._

He wrenched the truck door open, half-fell out, climbed painfully to his feet.

The truck was crunched up against one of the concrete posts that held up the gates outside Winslow High. He didn't question how he came to be there; he just started staggering toward the school.

He must have blacked out for a moment, because he found himself in the school hallway, next to a row of lockers. And Taylor's voice, hysterical and terrified, was coming from one of them, along with loud banging.

"Taylor!" he shouted, stumbling over to the locker. His head ached abominably; he ignored it. His fingers scrabbled at the door. "Taylor! I'm here! I'll get you out!"

Inside the locker, she heard him. "Dad? _Dad?_ _ **DAAAAAAD!**_ "

The sheer need and anguish in her voice tore his heart in two, right down the middle. He twirled the combination lock uselessly; he couldn't even see the numbers. _I have to get her out._

 _Pry bar. I have a pry bar, in the truck._ He knew exactly where it was, could visualise it, behind the seat. "I'll get a pry bar from the truck!" he shouted. "I'll be right back!"

 _He's going away. No. He can't leave me here._

"Dad! No! Please don't go!" she screamed hysterically.

Danny stared at what he held in his right hand. _Must've blacked out again,_ he thought dully. For he was holding the pry bar, but for the life of him, he could not recall going to the truck and getting it out.

He vaguely supposed that he should be concerned. Blackouts were not a good thing. But right now he had other things to worry about. Such as getting this door open.

Setting the pry bar in the door crack, he heaved. It gave, a little. He set it deeper, heaved again. Abruptly, the lock gave, and the door sprang open. Taylor fell out, into his arms. He clasped her tightly; she clung to him desperately. She stank abominably, was covered in vomit, and had small horrible blackened things clinging to her legs and arms; his face and chest were half covered in gore from a badly bleeding scalp wound. Neither of them cared; they were together.

***

 **3:22 PM**

"The principal's statement indicated that Daniel and Taylor appeared in her office in a cloud of smoke at approximately eight forty-one AM," continued Armsmaster. "He shouted at her, swung a weapon at her, made a threat, and then disappeared again."

They both looked at the other item on the desk. A metal pry-bar, old and scuffed. It was also contained in a plastic bag.

***

 **8:41 AM**

 _I'm taking this to the principal. Give her a piece of my mind._

Danny could not recall staggering to the principal's office, half-carrying Taylor. But he must have, because there she was, right in front of him. She started up out f her chair.

"Mr Hebert!" she snapped. "What is the meaning of this?"

A couple of the horrid items from the locker peeled from Taylor's leg, fell to the carpet. All of the calm, reasoned words Danny had been going to use just went out of his head.

"You fucking did this!" he shouted. "You let this happen!"

He brought the pry bar up and over, down on to the desk; the sharp tip smashed through a desk calculator and embedded itself in the wood beneath. When he let the metal bar go, it quivered slightly, and stayed where it was.

"Dad ...". Taylor's voice was barely a whimper. She bent forward and threw up bile on the carpet.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I'll get you to the hospital," he promised _._ He pointed one shaking finger at the principal. "I'll be fucking _back_ ," he promised.

Scooping his daughter into his arms, he turned to leave ... and found himself stumbling in through the emergency room doors. The nurse on duty looked up from her crossword puzzle, her eyes widening in shock. Danny was at the end of his strength; he crumpled to the floor, in his last extremity twisting so that he took the impact and not Taylor.

He never heard the shouts of alarm, the running feet. Never felt himself being lifted on to a stretcher.

***

 **3:24 PM**

"We checked the hospitals, of course," Armsmaster stated. "They were checked in under their own names. Daniel Hebert, suffering from trauma consistent with a car crash, Taylor with numerous minot cuts and bruises, plus infectious materials all over her. It's fairly obvious that she was locked into that locker by person or persons unknown, along with the biohazard waste. She contacted him to get her out, and he triggered in his anxiety to reach her."

Director Piggot considered this. "You will have turned over all your gathered evidence to the police, of course. This sort of thing is deeply disturbing."

He nodded. "Already done, ma'am."

"And the Heberts? Have you spoken to them yet?"

He shook his head. "We have guards on them, but he's still unconscious from his injuries, and she's been sedated until they could assess her condition.". He grimaced. "They had to burn her clothes.". He paused. "I have contacted New Wave and asked them if Panacea can help. She should be getting to the hospital fairly soon, and meeting Miss Militia there. If Hebert can teleport reliably across the city, carrying someone, even while injured, we could definitely use him in the Protectorate."

The Director nodded. "Keep me informed."

He rose and saluted. "Will do, ma'am."


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7: Revelations

Panacea met Miss Militia in the hospital corridor.

"Where _is_ everyone?" she asked, keeping her voice low by habit.

"We've had the ward cleared," Miss Militia replied. "Daniel Hebert is a newly triggered cape, with a head injury. His daughter was the reason he triggered." Swiftly, she filled Panacea in on the facts as she knew them. "They've got him stable, but we'd really like you to have a look at him."

"I don't do brains," said Panacea reflexively.

Miss Militia shook her head. "I'm not asking you to. But this guy teleported a truck halfway across the city. And teleported himself and his daughter from her school to here, _after_ he got the head injury. He could be a huge asset to the Protectorate."

Panacea nodded briefly. "I'll see what I can do." She walked into the room, pushed aside the curtain.

Daniel Hebert was a tall, skinny man. He had a splint on his left leg, and bloodstained bandages on his head. Panacea looked at him for a long moment _. He got injured trying to get to his daughter and save her._

 _He must love her very much._

 _She's so lucky._

She laid her hands on his, and went to work.

***

Danny's eyes fluttered open. _Where …?_ He made an incoherent noise in his throat. _Taylor. Where's Taylor?_

"Shh … shhh," said a voice soothingly. "It's all right." The voice was young, and feminine. Not Taylor, though.

He knew where Taylor was, however. She was about four yards _that_ way. He rolled his head over to look in that direction. There was a curtain there. Taylor was asleep or unconscious. He had no idea how he knew that.

"Mr Hebert," came the soft voice once more. "Can you hear me?" He turned to look. A hooded girl, white robes, a cross on the front. _Panacea, from the Brockton Bay Brigade._

"Nggg hrrrr yng," he mumbled.

Her hand lifted his head gently, and a cup of water was held to his lips. He drank clumsily, but most of it went down his throat, rehydrated his parched mouth.

"I can hear you," he said, once he finished drinking. "Thanks. Is Taylor all right?"

He thought she smiled. "She'll be fine. I had to deal with you first. Do you know what happened to you?"

He blinked; his hands came up reflexively to his face. "How can I see you so well? Where are my glasses?"

"I gave you a little impromptu eye surgery," she explained. "I hope you don't mind."

He shook his head. "I guess not. What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," she said gently. "See what your memories are like."

Widower, his file said. One daughter. _Taylor._

Her powers told her more; he was in reasonable health for his age, non-smoker, non-drinker. Not overly fit, but not inclined to put on weight. Heightened level of endorphins – _he's been getting a lot of sex recently_ , she concluded, with just a little bit of a blush. _Lucky him_. Vasectomy, an old surgery. _Still has all his teeth, had his appendix out years ago_.

No apparent brain damage that she could see. Which was a good thing. _I don't do brains. Not even for the new up-and-coming wunderkind teleporter that they say he is._

"I … was at work," he said hesitantly. "Taylor called. Said she was trapped in a locker. I started driving over there. Ran a red light." He stopped, looking at her.

"Go on," she said with a smile. "I'm not here to bust you for that."

He nodded. "Next thing I knew, the truck's piled up in front of the school gates. I went to go in, blacked out, found myself outside her locker. I wanted to open it, so I got my pry-bar and opened it. Got Taylor out, went to the principal's office, gave her a piece of her mind, got Taylor to the hospital." He frowned. "Not sure how. The truck was pretty beat up."

She nodded. "Mr Hebert, there's more to it than that." She looked around, gestured to Miss Militia, who was chatting to Glory Girl. _I_ _ **told**_ _Vicky she'd get bored, but she insisted on coming._

"What?" he asked. He began to struggle to sit up. _Is it about Taylor? Oh my god, Taylor!_

"Please relax, Mr Hebert," she urged him. "You had a fractured skull, a subdural haematoma and a shattered left kneecap, along with various minor contusions. You've also lost blood. You are going to feel weak for a little while. Please don't strain yourself."

Miss Miltitia came straight over. Danny grabbed Panacea's arm. "Is Taylor all right?" he asked urgently.

"She'll be fine," she told him again. "I'm just going to look in on her now." She glanced at Miss Miltitia. "His memories and mental acuity check out just fine," she assured the older hero.

Miss Militia nodded. "Thank you, Panacea," she said. She sat down alongside the bed. "Mr Hebert – Daniel," she said. "Is it okay if I call you Daniel?"

"Danny," he said reflexively. "No-one ever calls me Daniel."

"Danny," she repeated. "Well, then, do you know why I'm here to talk to you, Danny?"

He frowned. "Um … no. Did a supervillain shut Taylor in the locker?"

She chuckled. "No. It's more simple than that. Do you know how you got from the school to the hospital?"

His frown deepened. "Uhhh … not really?"

He could see the smile stretching the scarf around her mouth. "You have powers, Danny. You're a teleporter."

But he wasn't paying attention any more.

***

Taylor felt herself gradually emerging from sleep. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay down there in the nice safe soft warm darkness, where the horror of the locker wasn't. She was scared that she'd just gone away from herself for a while, and when she came back, she'd still be in the locker.

But she woke up anyway. She was looking up at a blurry accoustic-tile ceiling, and a girl in a white hooded costume, one with a red cross on the front. She was a little slower to recognise Panacea than Danny, because the last of the sedatives were still clearing themselves out of her system.

***

Panacea knew that she would be more lucid in just a minute. Her system was strong; she was a fundamentally healthy person.

 _She gets her skinny genes from her dad; she'll never be overweight. Poor girl will never get past a B-cup._ She frowned. _She's fifteen, and she's been having a lot of sex recently. Fresh semen still inside her, from this morning? No pill, no visible contraception. Pregnant?_

A quick check said no. _Good. I'd hate to see her ruin her life over a mistake like this._

And then Taylor seemed to come into focus.

***

 _Where am I -?_

And she _knew_ , even as she posed the thought.

 _Brockton Bay General Hospital, third floor, west wing, second ward, bed 36._

 _Where's Dad?_

 _Four yards_ _ **that**_ _way._

 _Alive, awake, concerned, thinking about me._

 _Aww, that's so sweet. I love you too, Dad._

The girl – _Panacea, of the Brockton Bay Brigade_ , she recalled now – looked at her with just a little concern as she closed her eyes again.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Hebert?" she asked gently.

Taylor nodded. She sat up for herself, reached out, grabbed a cup, poured water from the plastic jug, drank.

"I'm fine," she said, once she had swallowed. "Is Dad okay?"

***

"Taylor," said Danny, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side, grunting in annoyance at the splint. Then he disappeared in a cloud of purple-brown smoke.

***

Panacea jumped as purple-brown smoke billowed out of nowhere, then dissipated to reveal Danny by Taylor's bedside. Taylor opened her eyes and hugged him tightly; his arms went around her, no less tightly.

"Dad …" she said, her face buried in his chest.

"Taylor …" he replied, tears leaking from his tightly shut eyes.

"Dad …"

"Taylor …"

They were silent for a moment then, as Miss Militia came around the curtains to stare at them.

"Damn," she said.

"That was precision teleporting, right there," said Panacea. "Six inches clearance in any direction."

"Damn," said Miss Militia again.

Danny let his grip around Taylor loosen just slightly, and he pulled back to look at her. "Are you all right, kiddo? Really all right?"

She nodded, tearfully. "Really all right," she said. "Now that you're here."

"Not going anywhere," he assured her.

"Uh, just so you know," interjected Panacea, "Taylor had several cuts and bruises and other contusions. Also, several minor infections. What the hospital staff did not fix, I did. So she's totally healthy."

"Thank you," said Danny, his relief heartfelt. "Thank you." He didn't let go of Taylor.

"And Dad?" said Taylor to Panacea. "Is he okay? That bandage … that splint …"

Panacea nodded. "He's fine. I healed the injuries he took. There was no appreciable brain damage."

"Thank you," said Taylor. "Really. Thank you."

Panacea smiled. "It was the least I could do. Would you like us to contact your boyfriend for you?"

Taylor frowned. "I don't _have_ a boyfriend," she said without thinking.

Panacea blinked. A few things started coming together. _Father and daughter. Living together. Both have had quite a lot of sex very recently. Her hand, unobtrusively, rested on Taylor's arm. There's no spermatozoa at all inside her. It's just semen. Such as a man with a vasectomy might leave._

 _Oh fuck, he's molesting her._

 _How do I deal with this?_

"Miss Miliitia," she said, keeping her voice level with an effort, "could you please take Mr Hebert for a walk, and tell him about what he needs to know? I need to have a talk with Miss Hebert here about come basic medical issues."

Miss Militia frowned, but nodded. "Danny," she said, "do you drink coffee? There's a machine down the hall that produces something that pretends to be the stuff …"

Danny allowed himself to be led away.

Panaceea turned to Taylor, who was looking puzzled. "What medical matters?" Taylor asked.

Panacea lowered her voice. "Taylor," she said carefully. "You can tell us. We can lock him up, stop him from hurting you."

Taylor frowned. "Stop _who_ from hurting me?"

Panacea tilted her head at the doorway, where Danny had disappeared. "Your father," she said. "He's forcing you to have sex with him, isn't he?"

Taylor's eyes went very wide.

***

Out in the corridor, Danny paused and almost turned back. Miss Militia stopped. "Danny," she said firmly, "Panacea said she wanted a _private_ conversation with your daughter."

He frowned and went on. _What just frightened her?_ Then he paused. _How did I know she was frightened just then?_

In an effort to distract himself, he turned to her. "Sorry," he said. "You were saying I'm a teleporter? When did that happen?"

She smiled. "In times of stress, Mr Hebert …"

***

 _"_ _No!"_ whispered Taylor urgently. "You have to _understand!_ He's not _forcing_ me! I _asked_ him to! _I_ had to virtually force _him!"_ Tears welled in her eyes. "You don't _understand!_ I _needed_ it. I needed _him._ I still do. He's all I've got. What we do is the only thing that keeps me sane."

Panacea shook her head. "Why?" she asked. "How?"

"You know who put me _in_ that fucking locker?" demanded Taylor, her voice rising despite her intent to keep it quiet. "The same three bitches who have been making my life hell for the last two and a half years. They've been bullying me, taking my stuff, destroying it, and laughing at me. And nothing I do works, and they always get away with it." She grabbed Panacea by the arm. "His love is the only thing that's keeping me going. _Please_ don't tell anyone."

Panacea stared at her. _She's like me,_ she thought.

 _She feels for her father what I feel for my sister._

 _How can I condemn that?_

Finally, she took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "But I'm going to want to sit down with you sometime, and have a very long, very serious chat. All right?"

Taylor nodded. "Okay," she said. "Thanks." Her smile was tremulous, but genuine.

Panacea frowned. "So you know for a fact who put you in there?" she asked.

Taylor fell back on the pillow, her eyes closed. "Oh, I always _know_ who does it to me," she said, her arm over her face. "But I can never prove it, and no matter how many times I complain, they always walk. I have no idea why. Maybe someone in the faculty just hates me for some reason."

"That's terrible," said Panacea, reaching out and taking hold of her hand. "What are their names? Maybe we can pass them on to the school and ask that something be done."

Taylor sighed. "Fat fucking lot of use that'll do."

Panacea squeezed her hand. "I'll go myself," she promised.

Taylor chuckled. "I'd like to see that, actually. Okay, Emma Barnes –"

She _saw_ Emma, practising piano scales. And she knew exactly where she was; upstairs in her father's house.

 _Wow, that's weird,_ she thought. _I've never seen her wearing_ _ **that**_ _outfit._

"Yes?" asked Panacea.

"Oh, and Madison Clements," said Taylor. And as she said the name, concentrated on the person, she saw Madison curled up on a bed in a strange bedroom – 1743 South Privet Drive, she knew without knowing how she knew – talking on a mobile phone. She knew _exactly_ where Madison was.

 _That's so weird_ , she thought.

"And the third?" pressed Panacea.

"Uh, Sophia Hess," said Taylor. Of the three, Sophia was the one she was most scared of. Emma could hurt her with cutting words, and Madison with cruelly calculated pranks, but Sophia left bruises.

As she said the name, she saw Sophia. In a room she didn't recognise. Other figures were standing around here, but were blurry. But she _knew_ where the room was.

She took her hand away from her eyes. "That's really fucking weird," she said out loud.

"What is?" asked Panacea.

"Sophia Hess, at this moment, is in the PRT building, downtown. Talking to someone. Why is she there?"

Panacea stared at her, nonplussed. "What do you mean, she's in the PRT building?"

"I mean, she's in the fucking PRT building. Right now. Or I'm having the weirdest fucking hallucination." Taylor knew her language was getting away from her. "Sorry, sorry."

She saw Glory Girl looking around the door, drawn by her raised voice. "Sorry, my bad. Won't happen again." Glory Girl frowned and disappeared.

"Glory Girl," called Panacea. Vicky reappeared. "Could you get Miss Militia for me?"

Vicky nodded, and disappeared again.

***

Miss Militia had just talked Danny into stepping from one end of a length of hallway to the other and back, with the characteristic clouds of quickly-dissipating purple-brown smoke, when Glory Girl appeared at her side. "Panacea wants to see you," she said quietly.

Miss Militia turned to Danny. "I've got to –" she began., but Danny had already disappered.

"He doesn't even make a noise when he does it," she complained.

"Would you prefer something like 'bamf'?" quipped Glory Girl. Miss Militia shot her a dirty look.

***

When she got back, Taylor was sitting up in bed.

"I'm not kidding, Dad, I swear to you!" She was somewhat agitated, but she was holding both his hands in hers. "She's right there. Talking to someone. I can see it as clear as I can see you!"

Panacea met Miss Militia at the door. "Can you tell me if a student named Sophia Hess has been taken to the PRT building?" she asked quietly.

Miss Militia paused. "Why do you ask that?" she said carefully.

Panacea went to speak, then stopped. "Just humour me, okay?"

Miss Militia turned away and pulled out her comm.

***

"Miss Militia to base, please respond."

 _"_ _Base to Miss Militia, reading you five by five."_

"Base, I have a location request for Shadow Stalker, repeat, Shadow Stalker."

 _"_ _Miss Militia, I have Shadow Stalker on base, in conference with Aegis. Would you like a connection?"_

"Negative, Base. Miss Militia, out."

***

She turned back to Panacea. "You're right. She's there. How did you know?"

Panacea looked at her. "I think ... I think they _both_ triggered."

Miss Militia stared. _"_ _Both?"_

Panacea nodded. "So … you have _two_ capes on your hands. And I think Taylor is a Thinker, a locator."

Miss Militia ran her fingers through her hair, looked over to where Taylor was sitting up, holding Danny closely. "Damn."

Panacea paused. "I have a question. Is Sophia Hess … a Ward?"

Miss Militia frowned. "I can't answer that. If she was, it might reveal her secret identity."

"But what if she was one of the people who put Taylor in that locker?"

Miss Militia stared. "Say that again."

It didn't sound any better the second time around.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8: Confessions

"Oh, you have got to be fucking _kidding_ me," snarled Danny, looking as angry as Taylor had ever seen him. "One of the girls who's been giving Taylor hell for more than a _year_ is a Ward, and you never picked up on it?"

Miss Militia looked rather embarrassed. Panacea stood off to the side, watching Taylor and Danny sympathetically. Now that she knew their situation, she could see how deep the bond was between them.

 _It's not abuse,_ she understood. _It's not a sick or twisted thing. It's love. Just … different. And with what they've been through, I would hesitate to call it wrong._

Vicky joined her, watching Danny confront Miss Militia with interest.

"What's going on?" she asked in an undertone. "There's nothing else interesting happening around here. How come Mr Herbert's ripping chunks off Miss Militia?"

"It's 'Hebert'," Amy corrected her, "and they just found that one of the girls who shoved her in the locker was Shadow Stalker."

Vicky's eyes grew wide. "Well, _fuck,"_ she muttered. _"_ _That's_ a fucking turn-up for the books."

"Mr Hebert – Danny – " said Miss Militia placatingly, "we try to give our Wards enough leeway to have normal lives while in school, though we also try to ensure that they can get away in order to carry out the superheroic side of their lives without too much trouble."

"So you tell the schools, she's a Ward, don't question any absences, and they decide that means, give her carte blanche to _bully other girls?"_ he shouted in her face. "Yeah, that's a really smart way to let them have their normal lives. Did you perhaps stop to fucking think that maybe her idea of a 'normal life' is to _hurt_ people? For _fuck's_ sake!"

Turning to Taylor, he said, "Okay, kiddo, let's go. I'm taking you home."

Miss Militia stepped forward. "Wait –"

"I'm. Fucking. Done. Waiting," he snarled. "You want me in the fucking Protectorate? Well, until your precious fucking Shadow Stalker is either behind bars or fucking _dead_ , then forget it! Clean up your own fucking messes for once!"

And purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and they were gone.

"Damn," said Miss Militia. She looked at the other two. "For the _record_ , I wanted to tell him that we still had his personal effects. And Taylor's."

"Right," said Panacea.

"Got it," said Glory Girl.

"Never doubted it," said Panacea.

"But if you want my advice …" said Glory Girl.

Miss Militia looked at her suspiciously.

"Do what he says. Fix this shit," said Glory Girl.

Panacea nodded. "Come down hard on Shadow Stalker and her friends. If she's guilty, throw the book at her. And _then_ …"

Glory Girl nodded. "And then go to him and very humbly ask him to reconsider."

"And invite Taylor to join the Wards too, of course," agreed Panacea. "I doubt very much that they'll want to be apart."

Miss Militia frowned. "I'll be taking that under advisement." She nodded at the two of them. "I'll stand down the guards. Thank you for your assistance. Have a good day."

Amy nodded at Victoria. "Time we went," she said with a smile.

***

They appeared in the middle of the living room. The purple-brown cloud dissipated around them, and they looked around. It was undisturbed. Taylor clung tightly to him; she wore hopsital-issue soft flannel pyjamas, while he wore a classic backless hospital gown.

He leaned down and kissed her; she responded avidly, her tongue erotically squirming around his. Their shared arousal deepened; he pulled open her pyjama top, the clips popping free. Her bare breasts were revealed beneath. He knelt down and suckled on them; she moaned and ran her fingers through his hair.

Standing, he scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

"My place or yours?" he murmured.

She giggled. "Drop me off in mine; I'll meet you in yours."

He did just that; by the time he had the gown off and was on the bed waiting, she was back. She was wearing that amazingly slutty bikini, which almost covered her nipples and her labia.

"Wow," he said. "You look like you need a good hard fuck."

She grinned at him. "Dad," she said, "I really need a good hard fuck. Now, can you do me a favour and pull something out of my head?" She crawled on top of him and kissed him avidly; he felt an image drifting into his mind, and he instinctively reached out for it. A puff of purple-brown smoke, and he held the tub of Vaseline that had been in the medicine cabinet.

"Really?' he asked.

"Yes, really," she said huskily. "After what you did for me today, I really, really want you to enjoy me in every way possible." She pulled the bikini bottom down and spread her ass cheeks. "Spread it on as thickly as you can, Dad."

He daubed it on liberally, then eased two fingers, well-lubricated, into her ass. She moaned and gripped the sheets as his fingers invaded her, but she did not clench up and she did not tell him to stop.

When her ass was as lubricated as he could make it, and his throbbing erection was also coated in the same stuff, she lay on her back, holding her legs up and apart. Reaching down, she held her buttocks apart so that her anal opening gaped invitingly.

Getting on top, so that her legs rested on his shoulders, he placed the tip of his penis between her buttocks, and slowly began to press into her.

She gasped as his head popped in through her anal sphincter, but did not ask him to stop. Slowly, slowly, he slid into her, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.

But none came. Inch after inch slid into her tight young asshole, until she felt herself filled up beyond measure, and still he pushed inside her. At last, he came to a stop, and she felt the tickling of his pubic hair on her labia.

"Oh god, Dad," she whispered. "You're so fucking big in my ass."

"And you're so fucking tight," he agreed. Already, his cock was starting to convulse in that way that he knew immediately presaged climax; her tight hot ass felt so good around his penis.

Slowly, he drew out a little, then slid into her once more. She gasped. "Oh fuck, Dad. Oh fuck. That's just … oh fuck."

She couldn't believe how big, how thick, he felt inside her. She didn't know if it was pleasure or pain she was feeling, or some balance of the two, but she knew she didn't want him to stop.

And he knew this. He could feel it in her. She wanted him to do this to her. And he so wanted to do it.

Another slow stroke, and a third, and then he couldn't help it; he began to pump in and out of her faster and faster, his hips taking over, his penis sliding into her deeper and deeper. She gasped and bucked under him as he drove his cock hard into her ass and ejaculated, crying out with the force of his orgasm.

She felt him cum inside her, spraying deep inside her bowels, and she was so close. He kept sliding his penis into her, over and over, as his climax filled her with his white cum, jetting deep within her. And then she came herself, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it, as an orgasm blasted from her toes to the top of her head, nearly setting her ears on fire.

She felt his orgasm; he felt hers. And they mixed, and combined, so that they clung to each other, his cock still pumping into her ass, both still shuddering with pleasure, until long after the last droplet of semen had been milked from his softening penis.

He slid out of her and she brought her legs down to lie on the bed. They lay in one anothers' arms.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Oh god."

"Oh god is right," he agreed shakily. He breathed deeply, regaining his scattered thoughts. "How is it?" he asked. She knew what he meant.

"Sore," she admitted. "But _oh_ so satisfied." She snuggled into his chest; naked, sweaty and unashamed. "I wanna do that again sometime, when it isn't so sore."

He grinned and kissed her gently. "We will, kiddo. Shower?"

She smiled and kissed him back. "Oh yeah. I know they bathed me, but I still want to scrub that shit off me."

***

 _"_ _Shadow Stalker … please report to the Director's office … Shadow Stalker … please report to the Director's office."_

"Oh, what the _fuck?"_ Sophia snarled. She looked at Aegis. "Seriously? I just got through with talking to you over the thing at the school. Now I have to go talk to _her_ about it?"

"Hey," said Clockblocker, leaning lazily back against a computer terminal. "Miss Piggy isn't happy unless she hears about it first hand."

"You shouldn't call her that," said Aegis reprovingly, but there was no heat in his comment.

"Yeah, well," began Clockblocker, but the rest of what he heard was lost to Sophia as she went to change into costume.

She took just as long as she thought she could get away with, drawing it out, but finally the last accessory was placed just right, and her costume had no wrinkles in it anywhere. So she strode out of the Wards' area and entered the elevator that would take her to the officer of the regional Director of the PRT.

***

They walked out of the hospital, and Victoria scooped Amy into her arms.

It was fun, flying with Vicky. She felt so _safe_. Leaning against her sister's shoulder, she sighed.

"What's up, Ames?" asked Victoria with a smile. "That sounded sad."

"I just got a reminder that some things don't last forever. And that I should say some things to some people before it's too late."

"Oh?" said Vicky. "Like what?"

Amy took a deep breath. "Vicky, can you promise me that what I say next, you won't freak out, and you won't tell _anyone?_ Especially Carol?"

Glory Girl looked a little worried. "Now you're scaring me, Ames. What is it? Do you have some condition? Are your powers killing you?"

Amy smiled and shook her head. "Nothing like that. But I need you to promise."

"Okay," said Victoria. "I promise."

Amy looked her in the eye and said, "Victoria Dallon, I am in love with you."

***

In the shower, she washed his penis off, then sucked him to erection, and he slid into her vagina as if he were coming home. They made love under the streaming water, slow and gentle and sweet, holding each other and kissing gently, caressing, making it last. Her orgasms were a thing of beauty, breaking waves of pleasure that left her shaking and breathless.

He felt them, and it pushed him to his own climax, blasting the both of them with a white-hot ecstasy that only enhanced her own ongoing orgasms. The resultant recombination of orgasmic pleasure left them slumped on the floor of the shower stall, semi-conscious, while his penis still pumped semen into her soft, pulsing vaginal canal.

When she recovered enough to speak, she said softly, "Wow. Fuck. That was …"

He blinked groggily. "The first time wasn't a fluke."

She shook her head. "It wasn't. I'm feeling what you're feeling. And when we're this close in contact, it's pleasure as well as emotions."

"God damn," he said feelingly. "It must be our powers. They've given us a connection. And sex comes through that connection loud and clear."

"Whatever it is," she giggled, "I'm all in favour of it."

"Me too, kiddo," he agreed. "Me too."

His penis slid out of her with a wet _plop_. She giggled and snuggled into his embrace.

"You think they'll do anything about Sophia now?" he asked idly, playing with her nipples.

She grinned and kissed him. "Oh, I think so," she said.

***

The door to the office opened, and Shadow Stalker entered. Director Piggot looked up; her face registered disapproval. "While I understand that it takes some little time to get your costume on, Miss Hess," she said, "a little more promptness may be in order."

"I'm sorry," said Shadow Stalker insincerely. Director Piggot would have to know it was insincere, but so long as she said the words, they couldn't fault her on how she said it. "What is you wanted to see me about?"

Director Piggot nodded off to the side, where Miss Militia flanked Armsmaster. "Those two will explain it better than I can. If you will?"

Armsmaster nodded to Miss Militia, who stepped forward. "I interviewed Taylor Hebert at the hospital today," she said crisply. "She spoke of three girls who have been bullying her for a year or more, and who are the prime suspects for having shoved her into her locker this morning."

A cold feeling rolled through Shadow Stalker. _Bluff it out, bluff it out._ "What's this got to do with me?" she asked, trying to strike a light tone.

Miss Militia looked her directly in the eye. "Did you have anything to do with Taylor Hebert being criminally assaulted and imprisoned in her own locker at Winslow High, this morning?" she asked directly.

Sophia stared boldly back at her. _She can't see my face. She can't see my face,_ she told herself. "No," she said flatly.

"That's a lie," said Armsmaster.

Sophia stared at him. The chilly feeling intensified. "I'm not lying!" she blurted.

"I have a lie detector in my helmet," he told her coldly. "It says otherwise."

"One more time, Sophia," said Miss Militia implacably, "Have you been bullying Taylor Hebert for the last year, and did you help lock her in her locker this morning?"

Her nerve broke; she turned to shadow, darted toward the windows behind Director Piggot's desk. _They'll expect me to go for the door._

There was a taser in Miss Militia's hand. She swung it, looking for a clear shot.

Shadow Stalker reached the window, hit it. A crackling buzz of electricity surged through her. She solidified, fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

Director Piggot looked dispassionately down at her as Armsmaster secured her with specialty cuffs. "I think we can call that a confession of guilt," she said blandly. "I am going to have to thank Kid Win for installing that anti-intruder mesh over my windows. Though I have to admit, I thought it would serve to keep intangible people _out_ , rather than _in."_

Armsmaster nodded. "Well, I'll go get her processed in." He hefted the unconscious girl over his shoulder, and looked at Miss Militia. "You can call the Heberts and give them the good news."

She grimaced. "I'm not looking forward to this," she confessed. "I hate looking like a fool in front of anyone, and Shadow Stalker made me look like a fool in front of Danny Hebert."

"She made fools of us all," Armsmaster reminded her, on his way out the door. "Time to make it right."

She nodded, and pulled out her phone.

***

Glory Girl and Panacea sat on a rooftop.

"Wait, wait, let me get this straight," said Victoria. "You find me sexy, and you want to sleep with me?" Disbelief and disquiet warred in her tone.

 _"_ _Yes,"_ said Amy. "I love you, and I want to hold you in my arms every night." Her voice was patient; this was perhaps the fourth time they had gone through this. Victoria apparently had trouble fitting it into her worldview.

Victoria shook her head. "Where did this come from? You're my _sister_ , Ames." _You're supposed to act like it_ , her tone said.

"Only adopted," Panacea reminded her. "Besides, you're smart, you're sexy, you're beautiful." She blushed. "I really ... I mean ... I've had the urge to ... I just want to grab you and kiss you sometimes."

 _"_ _Ames!"_ protested Victoria, blushing bright red in her turn. "You did _not_ just say that!"

Amy nodded. "I did too," she contradicted Glory Girl. "Besides, this is all your fault."

Vicky shook her head. "It's my fault you've got the hots for me? How's that?" she asked.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Remember the first time you let your awe aura go full blast?"

Victoria giggled. "Oh yeah. That was interesting."

Amy nodded. "That was the first time I looked at you and wanted to see what was _under_ your clothes, rather than just loving you as a sister."

Vicky looked stunned. "My _aura?_ Is that possible?"

Panacea shrugged. "If it affects brain chemistry … sure. I was young –" loftily ignoring the fact that she was still only sixteen, " – and your aura hit me right between the eyes. Made you into my ideal sexual partner. Every time I felt it after that, it just made me feel all the more attracted to you."

Victoria put her face in her hands. "Well, fuck," she said, her voice slightly muffled.

Panacea went to put her arm around her; Glory Girl flinched back. "Hey –"

"Whoa, whoa," said Amy. "Just a hug. I can still give you those, even if I'm hot for your sexy bod."

That brought a reluctant chuckle out of Victoria. "Okay, just keep it clean, all right?" she said. She accepted the hug, and after a moment, leaned into it.

"See?" said Amy. "I _can_ control myself."

Vicky snorted. "I guess." A pause. "I always thought you had a crush on Dean."

Amy shook her head. "I was jealous of him. I wanted to be where he was. Especially when you two started having sex."

Victoria blushed again. "You _knew_ about that?" she asked.

Amy giggled. "Biokinetic, remember? If I touch you, I know about things like endorphin levels, how long since you've had sex, and so on. I'm guessing Dean uses a condom?"

Glory Girl nodded. "He's nice like that." She eyed Amy. "So where do we go from here?"

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. I'll keep going as we are, if you want me to. I love you, but I know you love Dean, and he loves you – "

"Well, dunno about 'love', but he's great in the sack," grinned Victoria.

Amy rolled her eyes. _"_ _As_ I was saying, I just wanted you to know it. If you ever, you know, felt curious about that sort of thing. I'm here for you. Any time."

Victoria grinned and punched her – very lightly – on the shoulder. "Well, I love you too, Ames. In a non-I-want-to-jump-your-bones way. So we'll keep going on as normal, if you're okay with that."

Amy smiled. "Just so long as you're happy, Vicky. That's all I want."

Victoria nodded. Then she paused. "Actually," she said.

"Actually?" asked Amy.

Vicky turned to look at her. "Yeah, actually. I've sometimes wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl. Not seriously, you know. Just wondered. Because there are some damn sexy chicks out there in some damn sexy costumes."

 _I'm sitting right next to one_ , thought Amy very loudly. But all she said was, "Yes?"

"And I was wondering … now that you've confessed your undying love and all that … if I could ask you for a favour." She paused. "Just a kiss. One kiss, is all. So I know what it's like. Nothing more, no making out, no putting your hands anywhere they shouldn't go." She gave Amy a severe stare. "Can you handle that?"

Amy felt her heart leap. "I can," she said, hoping her voice would not betray her. "Just one kiss. I can do that."

 _Oh my god,_ thought Amy. _She's going to do this! She's going to kiss me!_

Vicky smiled and leaned in toward her.

 _I'm_ _ **straight**_ , Vicky told herself firmly. _I like_ _ **boys**_ _. But I love Amy too, and if this helps her a little bit ..._

 _For her, I'll do this. Just a kiss._

 _I hope she appreciates what I'm doing for her._

Amy reached out, put her arms around Vicky's neck. They moved their heads awkwardly, turning the same way, then Amy corrected with a giggle. And then their lips met.

To Amy it was wonderful, fireworks, the culmination of a thousand sweaty nights' clutching her pillow and wishing it was Victoria. The warm pressure of Victoria's lips on hers sent bolts of sensation throughout her body.

To Victoria, it was ... different. She had kissed boys before, but this was unlike any of those. Soft, yielding, inviting ... and the knowledge that it was Amy did not disgust her; it instead added a tingle of forbidden delight.

And then it ended, and Amy slumped back, breathing heavily. _Oh my god_ , she thought. _Oh my god. Now I can die happy._

Vicky looked at her, expression unreadable. "That … wasn't half bad, actually," she said. "You're a nice kisser."

Her thoughts were a little more chaotic. _I think I_ _ **liked**_ _that. How could I like kissing a_ _ **girl?**_ _And my_ _ **sister?**_ _What's_ _ **wrong**_ _with me?_

Amy smiled shakily. "Any time, Vicks," she said softly. "Any time at all."

Vicky stood, and Amy stood with her. Vicky scooped her up in her arms.

"Not saying we'll ever do this again, mind," she said, but her smile was soft and tender.

Amy closed her eyes and snuggled into her sister's embrace.

***

Taylor and Danny lay naked in his bed. They weren't making love at the moment, as the last two monumental sessions had left Danny somewhat drained. But they embraced and murmured a quiet conversation which led nowhere, and had more to do with the love they shared than any semantic content.

And then the phone downstairs rang.

Danny grumbled something, stood up from the bed, and disappeared in a puff of brown and purple smoke. A moment later, the phone stopped ringing as he answered it.

Taylor lay back in bed, luxuriating in the utter bliss she was feeling. Her ass was still a little sore, but it was a _good_ kind of sore. She was out of that locker, and her father was just a thought away. And he loved her, and he was definitely getting more proactive with making love.

She watched his boxers, discarded on the floor, disappear in a puff of smoke; downstairs, she knew he was putting them on as he spoke on the phone.

Idly, she wondered where Sophia was. To her delight and amazement, she saw the dark-haired girl, in full costume, being carried unconscious through a corridor within the PRT building, over someone's shoulder. She wore cuffs of a design that Taylor was unfamiliar with.

Her father reappeared in the bedroom, his boxers still at half-mast.

"Guess what?" he asked with a grin.

"They got Sophia," she said.

"How did _you_ know?" he asked, looking surprised.

She grinned. "I can see her. She's unconscious and handcuffed."

He grinned right back. "Miss Militia said they'll be pressing as many charges as they can, and would we pretty please like to come by to talk about the charges, and about you joining the Wards and me joining the Protectorate."

She smiled. "I'd _love_ to." Stretching luxuriantly, she opened her thighs invitingly. "Quickie for the road?" She grinned. "After all, we have no travel time to worry about."

He nodded appreciatively. "You have a good point." He let his boxers slide to the floor once more.

Climbing on to the bed, he poised over her. As she guided him into her, he lowered his face to hers, and kissed her lovingly. She kissed him back passionately, bucking her pelvis up to meet his thrusts. The waves of pleasure quickly built into a crescendo; she was aware of only one thought.

 _I love my Dad._


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9: Acceptance

Taylor kissed her father, then climbed out of bed and padded off to the bathroom to relieve herself and wipe away the evidence of their lovemaking. Then she went to her room and began to dress.

He got up himself and dressed in a smart casual style; good trousers, slip-on shoes, button-up shirt, sports jacket. _No tie_ , he decided. _**They're**_ _asking_ _ **us**_ _to attend._

Taylor reappeared at the bedroom door, wearing the sundress he had gifted to her on Christmas Day. She had on just a touch of lip gloss; all the makeup she felt competent to apply.

He thought she looked sexy as hell.

She gave him a wry smile. "You know, all our personal stuff and my glasses are still in evidence lockers in the PRT?"

"Really?" he asked. "Where?"

She leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips. It was all that he needed.

Two puffs of brown-purple smoke expanded out from his hands, dissipated. In each hand now lay a large zip-lock bag. One was marked PROPERTY TAYLOR HEBERT and the other was marked PROPERTY DANIEL HEBERT.

Taylor took hers, opened it, took out her glasses, put them on.

"Well, at least they _cleaned_ everything," she said with satisfaction. She began tucking everything else into her small shoulder purse.

Danny nodded, putting his wallet in his trouser pocket and hefting the vehicle keys with a grin. "You realise, we just travelled across town and got into the house without once needing these," he said, tapping the house key that was appended to the keyring.

Taylor giggled and kissed him again. "I love you, Dad," she said softly. She looked down at the dress. "Is this too formal? Maybe I should have gone for jeans and t-shirt?"

He stepped up close to her. "If you were wearing jeans," he said softly, "I wouldn't be able to do this." He reached down and pulled her skirt up, reaching underneath. She was wearing her Victoria's Secret underwear … so very, very sheer. He rubbed her already-wet labia through them.

She arched her back and gasped. "Dad! They're waiting on us!"

"I know," he whispered, kissing her hard and squeezing her breast through the thin fabric of the dress. She gasped, pressing against him. "Let 'em wait a little longer." He squeezed her breast again. "No bra? I _like_ it."

She kissed him back, pushing her crotch at his rubbing hand. Then she gasped as he pushed aside the flimsy material and slipped a finger into her. She was very wet.

"Oh god, Dad," she moaned. She turned away abruptly, bent over the bed, pulled her sundress up around her waist. The dampness had soaked through her panties, making them transparent. He could see her distended pussy lips clearly. "Make love to me. Please. Now."

He unzipped his pants, extracted his penis, which was now quite hard. "I thought you'd never ask." Pulling down her panties, he poised at the entrance to her vagina. "Do you want it in the pussy or ass?"

She looked back over her shoulder. "I need you inside my pussy, Dad. You can have my ass later." She had the top of her dress open, and was playing with her breasts.

"Your wish is my command," he groaned, and started to slide his rampantly erect penis into her soft, slick, warm vaginal canal. She moaned, biting her lip, trying not to make too much noise. When he was fully embedded in her, he began to work back and forth, sliding his hard member into her over and over again.

They were both very turned on, so it didn't take long for him to empty out inside her; she rubbed her clit furiously, and came a few seconds later, screaming her orgasm into the bedcovers.

He pulled her panties up, and she stood up, letting her skirt fall back into place, buttoning up her top. He tucked himself away, and zipped up.

She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder for just a moment, catching her breath. "Thanks, Dad. I needed that."

"Anytime." He lifted her chin and examined her face. "Your makeup looks perfect. I can't even tell that you've got any on." He grinned. "You're gonna be beating off the Wards with a stick. The girls as well as the boys."

"Da-ad!" Taylor pulled her head away with a giggle, flushing slightly.

"What?" he grinned. "You're a sexy, sexy girl." He took a deep breath. "How do I look?"

She looked him over critically. He had the potential to look silly, like a scarecrow dressed up in cast-off finery, but in point of fact, he looked quite dapper. Smart casual was a look that worked for him.

"You look nice, Dad," she said finally, and kissed him one more time. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have take me to bed and make love to me all night." She shouldered her small purse. "Give me a second to clean up again, and we'll knock 'em dead."

***

Hand in hand., they appeared side by side in the middle of Director Piggot's office. The Director, to give her credit, only gave a mild start as the purple-brown smoke billowed up and dissipated once more.

"Commendably fast," she commented. "Thank you for accepting our invitation."

Danny nodded to her. "Director Piggot," he acknowledged. "Thank you for dealing with Shadow Stalker."

She made a non-commital gesture. "It was not solely for your daughter's benefit, Mr Hebert. Such a state of affairs could not be allowed to continue. Capes have a responsibility that extends to their private lives."

Miss Militia stepped forward, her hand held out. "Danny, Taylor. Thank you for coming."

Danny shook her hand, followed by Taylor; she had to release Danny's left hand to do this, and took hold of it once more thereafter.

"Take a seat," invited the Director. "I would like to hear about what you know of your powers so far."

They pulled their chairs closer together, so that they could maintain their handclasp, and sat.

Both Miss Militia and Director Piggot noted the gesture, but neither commented.

"Well," said Danny, "as Miss Militia probably told you, I can teleport. I'm guessing my normal range is about city-wide. My normal carrying load is probably about one other adult."

Director Piggot frowned. "It says here in this report that you teleported four miles along with a pickup truck. Was that a fluke?"

Danny shook his head. "I have no idea. I don't recall that."

"Hm." Director Piggot scrolled through the report, then looked up. "Can you do anything else?"

At that moment, her phone rang. "Excuse me," she said, and picked it up. "This had better be very important. I left a message. No calls."

Neither Danny nor Taylor could hear anything apart from a high-pitched squeaking coming from the receiver. Piggot frowned. "Really?" she said. "Did you double check?"

More squeaking.

Piggot compressed her lips together. "Very well. Keep me informed."

She put the phone down and looked at Danny and Taylor. "It appears that your personal effects have disappeared from the evidence lockers where they were being stored," she said. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" From the tone of her voice, she expected the answer to be in the negative.

"Uh, yes," said Danny. "I took them, earlier."

Piggot stared at him. "Took them. From a locked evidence locker, inside PRT headquarters. Without anyone knowing."

Danny nodded. "All I needed to know was where they were."

Piggot shook her head slightly. "All you needed to know." She frowned. "And how did you know?"

Taylor raised her free hand slightly. "Uh, that would be me, Director Piggot, ma'am."

Director Piggot looked at her. "Taylor. You're the … locator?"

Taylor nodded. "If I know what it looks like, or at least enough about it to make it unique, I can zero in on it. Full mental image. Exact location."

Piggot spread her hands. "And your father gets this information how? Do you tell him?"

Taylor shook her head. "All we need is physical contact. He gets the information that way."

Director Piggot stared. "He _reads_ your _mind?"_

She shook her head. "I just give him the information he needs. Like an email address. Only a lot more complicated."

"And how long does this take?" asked Piggot.

Taylor shrugged. "We never timed it." _We were doing other things at the time._ "Maybe a second, maybe less?"

"Wait, so let me get this straight," said Director Piggot. "If you are given enough information to identify something, then you can locate it, and then pass on that location information to your father, who can go and get it."

Taylor looked at Danny, who looked back at her. "That's about the size of it," he agreed.

Miss Militia broke in. "This extends to people, too, doesn't it?" she asked.

Taylor nodded.. "Uh, yeah," she said. "I always know where Dad is now, for instance. Anyone else, I have to think about it for a second."

"Which is how you knew that Shadow Stalker was at the PRT building," said Miss Militia.

Taylor nodded. "I couldn't figure it out. That's why I asked."

"And what's your range limit?" asked Director Piggot.

"Normally?" said Taylor. "About city wide. But when Dad's holding my hand? I can't find one."

Miss Militia and Director Piggot stared at them both.

"Uh, while Taylor's holding my hand," offered Danny, "all bets are off for my teleporting too. I feel much stronger, much more capable."

The stare intensified.

"And, uh, while we're holding hands," said Taylor, starting to blush under the intense scrutiny, "instead of just one thing, I can focus on a whole lot of things at once, and bring them all up at the same time."

She shut up. Director Piggot looked at Miss Militia, who stared back at her boss.

Miss Militia spoke first. "Worldwide –"

"- perfect –" put in Director Piggot.

"- clairvoyance," finished Miss Militia.

"You _have_ to be kidding me," Piggot stated.

Taylor shrugged. "Uh, try me?" she offered. Danny squeezed her hand; she felt his approval as a warm rush through her chest.

"Okay," said Director Piggot. She pulled a photo out of a folder, and showed it to Taylor. It was a plastic bag holding what looked like a battered, nearly destroyed flute. "Have you ever seen this before?"

"Oh my god," whispered Taylor. "Mom's flute." She blinked. "It's in evidence locker seven-three-five-nine., seventy-four yards away from this position." She turned to her father. "Dad?"

Danny held up his hand theatrically; there was a burst of purple-brown smoke, and he held the bagged flute. He handed it across to Taylor, who took it, tears welling from her eyes. She hugged it to her chest.

"The girls took it from her locker at school," Danny explained, as Taylor seemed incapable of speech. "They did _that_ to it. Taylor found it, but it was covered in something really vile, so she went looking for a plastic bag. Then they took it away again, just to screw with her head a second time. Where was it?"

"In the stuff that spilled out of her locker," said Miss Militia. "They apparently decided to give it back." She stared at Danny. "Did you just _pull_ it to you?"

Danny nodded. "If it's something I can carry in one hand, I don't need to go there."

Again, Miss Militia and Director Piggot looked at each other. Then Miss Militia looked to Taylor. "We have Tinkers who can repair that as good as new, if you want," she said gently. "It looks like you love it very much."

Taylor looked up, her eyes full of tears. "It was Mom's," she said. "Dad gave it to me after she died. It was the only thing left that was really _her_. And they took it, and did _this_ to it." Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Danny got up from his chair, knelt in front of hers, and took her in his arms. She held him tightly, and buried her face in his shoulder.

Another silent glance passed between Miss Militia and Director Piggot, one of perfect understanding. There would be no plea-bargaining, no easing of the sentence for Shadow Stalker.

After a minute or so, Danny sat down again, but he kept a firm hold on Taylor's hand. Her eyes were red, but she had the tears under control. Using a tissue from her purse, she blew her nose. Once she had finished, it puffed into purple smoke, reappeared in Danny's hand, then puffed away again.

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow. "Where did you send it?" she asked.

"Trash can in the kitchen, at home," he said offhandedly. "I know where that is."

She nodded. "As I was saying, we could get Kid Win or Armsmaster to see if they can repair your flute. They are both excellent Tinkers."

"If you could do that," said Danny, "that would mean so much to both of us." He cleared his throat. "What else would you like to know?"

Director Piggot cleared her throat. "You can locate people," she said. It was almost a question.

Taylor nodded. "I just need something to identify them."

"How about a cape name, if they're well-known enough?"

Taylor nodded again. Sure, I guess."

Director Piggot took a deep breath. "Taylor Hebert, can you tell me the present location of Jack Slash?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, sure," she said. "He's in a bed and breakfast called Calamus Lodge, in Nebraska."

Director Piggot hammered keys on her computer. She called up a map program and located Calamus Lodge.

"I can tell you which room," Taylor offered. Piggot didn't even notice. She snatched up her phone and dialled rapidly, then spoke even more rapidly.

Miss Militia strolled over to stand by Taylor's chair. "You can locate anyone at all?" she asked quietly.

Taylor shrugged. "Sure," she said. "Once I've got enough reference points."

Miss Militia nodded. "Are the rest of the Slaughterhouse Nine there?"

Taylor blinked. "I don't know who they all are."

"Crawler?" asked Miss Militia.

Taylor paused. "Yes."

"Bonesaw?"

"Yes."

"Mannequin?"

"Yes."

Miss Militia was staring at her in amazement. "Does it hurt? Is it a strain?" she asked.

Taylor shook her head, and held up the hand that was gripping Danny's. "Not while Dad's with me," she said with a wan smile.

Director Piggot put the phone down and smiled a very predatory smile. "I have just been in touch with Director Costa-Brown. She's extremely interested in your abilities, Taylor."

Taylor nodded. "Just so long as they don't take me away from Dad, I don't care," she said.

Miss Militia smiled. "I doubt there's much danger of _that,"_ she said with a smile.

Danny raised a hand. "Can you access missing-persons files from that computer, Director?" he asked.

The Director nodded, a little taken aback. "Certainly," she said. A few keystrokes later, and the monitor was full of thumbnail-sized pictures. She turned the monitor around to show them.

Taylor got up and approached the desk; Danny followed, still holding her hand.

She stared at the screen. Each face impinged on her consciousness separately, then it seemed to fold out, become a screen in her mind. The faces changed slightly, then expanded until she had a whole-body view of that person.

"Mouse?" she asked. Director Piggot handed it over.

She began to click rapidly on pictures. When she finished, a good third of the pictures were highlighted. "Those are all dead," she said sadly. She pointed at the others. "Hiding … living on the street … in South America … oh god," she choked. "She's chained up in someone's basement, like a dog."

Danny clasped her hand tightly. "Where?" he demanded sharply.

"Wait!" snapped Miss Militia. "I'm coming with you." She stepped forward, and took Danny's other hand. Neither Danny nor Taylor argued.

Purple-brown smoke billowed around them, and when it dissipated, they were gone.

Director Piggot looked at the highlighted pictures on her screen.

 _Damn,_ she thought.

***

They appeared in a cellar; Danny had instinctively ducked, as the ceiling was low. A teenage girl, filthy and naked, was chained to a metal pipe. The metal cuff had worn away the skin of her ankle.

Two more children, one about twelve and one about ten, were also in the room, also chained.

The older girl stared at them and screamed.

Taylor stepped forward, towing Danny with her. "Sh-sh-sh!" she said soothingly. "We're superheroes. We're here to get you out."

The girl stared, wide-eyed. "You're not wearing costumes."

Taylor pointed at Miss Militia. "She's in the Protectorate. We're just beginning." She bent down and looked at the chain. "Is there a lock?"

"No," said the girl dully. "He welded them shut."

"What's his name?" asked Taylor intently.

"John, I think," said the girl. "John Brady."

Taylor blinked. A fortyish man, overweight, wearing a wife-beater, filthy jeans. Getting off a sofa. Picking up a shotgun.

She waved to get Miss Militia's attention, pointed at the door. "One man," she whispered. "Shotgun."

Miss Militia nodded. She knelt, and pointed an extremely efficient-looking assault rifle at the door.

Danny was staring at the chains. He concentrated. Purple-brown fog billowed around the chains, dissipated. He held three ankle cuffs; the chains dragged free. The girl, and the two smaller ones, stared at their abraded ankles. Danny put down the cuffs.

Taylor checked on John Brady again. He was almost at the door.

"Dad," she whispered. "As soon as he opens the door, take his gun."

He nodded. He understood.

The door burst open. The unshaven figure stepped through. "What do you bitches think you –"

Purple-brown fog billowed around the sawn-off shotgun. It billowed again around Danny Hebert's hands, and he held the shotgun.

"John Brady!" snapped Miss Militia. "You are under arrest!"

The assault rifle changed subtly, and she fired, even before he was able to respond. A tranquilliser dart stuck out of his neck. He reached up, pulled it out, then slumped to the ground.

"Nice disarm," she said, rising to her feet and taking the shotgun from Danny's unresisting hands.

"Uh, thanks," said Danny. "It was Taylor's idea." He raised an eyebrow at the recumbent John Brady. "Aren't you supposed to give them a chance to surrender?"

She snorted. "This lowlife? He's lucky I used a _dart."_

The older girl tugged at Taylor's sleeve. "Can we go home now?" she asked, her voice full of hope and dread; hope for a positive answer, dread for a negative.

Taylor grinned. "Sure you can." She turned to Miss Militia. "Just by the way, we're in a town called Cordova, in Alabama." Turning back to the girl, she said, "All I need is your parents' names."

***

John Brady was delivered, unconscious, to the Cordova police station. Miss Militia went with him, to give a statement to the police. Three families had joyous reunions with their lost children; they promised to contact the police at once.

Miss Militia loitered in the alleyway behind the police station; only the faintest shift in air heralded the arrival of Taylor and Danny.

"It does make meeting up much easier," she commented with a smile, taking Danny's hand. "Let's go."

***

Director Piggot looked up as the smoke billowed once more, then died away. "I've just dealt with a phone call from a place called Cordova, in Alabama," she commented. "Was that you?"

Miss Militia nodded. "A dirtbag who had three kids chained up in his cellar." She turned a warm look on Taylor and Danny. "I haven't the words."

"Very well," said Director Piggot. "I do." She looked at Taylor and Danny. "I am formally inviting you to join the Protectorate; Taylor to be joining the Wards until her eighteenth birthday. Do you accept?"

Taylor looked at Danny, who looked back at him. They didn't need the look. Each already knew what the other was thinking.

Danny nodded in eerie unison with Taylor. "Thank you," he said.

"We accept," she added.

Miss Militia smiled behind her scarf. "No," she said. "Thank _you."_

Taylor hugged Danny, who reciprocated. "Ready to be a superhero, kiddo?" he asked with a grin.

"You bet," she agreed.


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10: Aftermath

Danny sat opposite Taylor as they ate dinner that night. "I think we did good today, kiddo," he said.

She smiled at him. "I think so, too.". Reaching across the table, she grasped his hand. "I love you, Dad."

He returned her smile. "I love you too, Taylor."

"Thanks for getting me out of that locker."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime at all."

They stood up simultaneously, and moved into a hug.

Danny Hebert held his daughter, his lover, and the person whom he valued most of all in the world. He would die for her; he nearly had, today, and he would do the same again, without hesitation. He knew that she loved him, and needed him, desperately, and so he would stand by her.

Taylor Hebert held her father, her lover, and the person whom she valued most of all in the world. Hers was a battered and scarred soul, but he had proven beyond any doubt that his love for her was unbending, unbreakable. He would stand by her forever, and thus she loved him just as strongly as he did her.

"Taylor ..." he began.

"Dad ..." she began, at the exact same moment.

They shared a self-conscious chuckle.

"You first," she said, snuggling into the embrace.

He cleared his throat. "I was just thinking, it's been a really long day, and we've done a lot, and I'm just a bit worn out ..."

"... so you just wanted to cuddle, tonight?" she finished.

"Well, yeah," he agreed. He pulled back a little, to look down at her. "Is that all right, kiddo?"

She smiled up at him, and kissed him gently on the lips. "I was about to say the very same thing, Dad," she said, and not only was it true, but he also knew it to be so. She laid her head on his chest again. "I've been through so much today, I just need to be able to relax and get my head together. But I still want to sleep with you. I think I might need a hug or two, tonight."

He held her close. "I think I can oblige you with that, Taylor," he agreed. He kissed her on top of her head, and then eased out of the hug. "In the meantime, we have dishes to do."

They washed up; a couple of experiments proved that he could not teleport grime off the dishes, nor the dishes away from the grime. Apparently some things never changed. So the dishes were done the old-fashioned way, and dried the same old way, and put away in the cupboard.

Danny felt a warm glow inside as his daughter scrubbed away at a stubborn stain. With all that had changed in their lives, with their new relationship, with their powers, with everything that had happened, they could still have a quiet domestic moment like this, as if nothing had changed at all. It gave him hope for the future.

She looked up at him and smiled; of course, with their new level of empathic connection, she had felt his happiness and divined the meaning of it.

"I know, Dad," she said softly. "I like it too."

They hugged again, almost as father and daughter once more, holding each other, a rock in a storm, an anchor in a gale. Stability amid chaos.

***

When she came to bed, she wore the singlet top and panties that she had worn the first night they had made love. She smiled as he recognised it. "It's not a message for you to rip it off me and have your wicked way with my sexy, sexy body," she said as she lay down alongside him. "Although I probably would not resist all that much if you did," she added with a giggle. "It's just that this is my most comfortable sleepwear."

"The thought never crossed my mind," he stated piously; which was a lie, and both of them knew it was a lie, but she didn't call him on it.

They settled down to sleep; she snuggled back against him and he put his arms around her, spoon-fashion. If one hand was cupping a breast, and the other her sex, and if she felt a half-hard penis prodding her backside every now and again, she made no mention. Tired out or not, they were still extremely attracted to one another, and such things were more sweet and endearing – in her opinion – than annoying.

He felt her body press back against his, and he could control his autonomic reaction no more than he could the first time that had happened. But she made no protest, merely snuggled her warm buttocks back a little more firmly against his almost-hard erection, and let his hands find their natural places.

They conversed for a little while like that, as sleep gradually overtook them. They were warm, comfortable, loved and safe. It was easy to drift off to sleep.

***

Taylor was in the locker. It was closing in on her. The unimaginably foul muck was rising around her, it was going to suffocate her, she couldn't get out, she couldn't find her phone, she couldn't call Dad. The level of the garbage rose to her chin.

She screamed.

***

Danny came awake as Taylor thrashed and screamed in his arms. He tried to hold her, tried to gently restrain her, as she whipped around, and writhed, and flailed blindly. She was screaming his name, over and over. He heard her begin to vomit, and teleported them both to the bathroom.

Vomit spattered the tiles before he was able to get her head over the toilet, holding her hair out of the way.

She threw up convulsively, her stomach muscles as hard as iron, voiding herself of everything she had eaten that day, since the locker.

He held her gently, speaking soothingly, reminding her that she was all right, that it was all good, she was out of the locker, he was there, he was never going to leave her alone ever again.

Gradually, she quieted down, stopped vomiting. Broke into great racking sobs that shook her skinny frame. He held her, soothed her. She cried on his shoulder.

He got her up, cleaned her up, wiped up the vomitus, flushed the toilet. Held her while she shivered.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, holding him tightly. "I'm such a burden."

"Never," he told her firmly, lifting her chin. Vomit breath or no, he kissed her firmly on the lips. "I love you, and you have been badly hurt. We just need to work through this."

She rinsed her mouth out; he did the same. She giggled self-consciously; he grinned.

"Let's get back to bed," he said. "We still need our sleep."

***

The locker was full of bugs that had come to feed on the horrible garbage, but there were more bugs than garbage. They crawled all over Taylor as she tried to get out of the locker, up her nostrils, into her mouth, into her eyes, into her ears. To her horror, she felt them burrowing into her underwear, crawling between her buttocks, forcing their way into her anus, crawling between her labia into her vagina, slithering up into her womb where they would lay their eggs ...

She could not open her mouth, because the bugs wanted to crawl in. But she had to if she wanted to scream.

She screamed, choked as the bugs climbed down her throat, screamed again.

***

Danny came awake once more, as Taylor screamed and thrashed in his arms. He held her close, murmuring gently, caressing her hair, telling her that she was all right. This time she retched, but nothing came up; he took her to the bathroom anyway. Kneeling on the white tiles, he embraced her, and she clung to him, sobbing piteously.

Helping her up, he took her to the kitchen and got her a glass of cold water, and had one himself. Then he took them both back to bed.

***

The third nightmare did not even wake Taylor up; she moaned and moved around for a bit in his arms, and he just had to hold her, murmuring soothingly into her ear, until she calmed down and dropped back to sleep proper.

He sighed and lay there for a long time before he finally managed to get back to sleep himself.

***

In the morning, he called in sick. The family emergency, he said, was ongoing, and he had to take care of Taylor. Then he went back to bed.

Taylor was still asleep when he got there, but she started to wake up when he climbed back in with her. She opened her eyes with a gasp and turned to him. "Oh, thank god, Dad," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I thought you'd gone somewhere."

"Nowhere without you, kiddo," he said gently, holding her in his arms. "Nowhere without you."

She made a contented noise and snuggled up to him. "I love you, Dad," she murmured, holding him close. "Was I much trouble, last night? I seem to recall waking up a few times."

"Just a bit," he admitted. "But it's all right. You went through something no-one should ever have to go through, and it's only natural that there'd be a bit of fallout from that. And I'm here for you anytime, you know that."

He felt hot tears slide from her eyes on to his chest. "Hey now, what's up?" he asked, caressing her hair.

"You're so good to me, Dad," she whispered. "I don't deserve it."

"You're my daughter," he told her bluntly. "If I say you deserve it, you deserve it."

She smiled wanly, and rested her head on his chest once more.

***

Alan Barnes opened the door to find two police officers standing there, along with a woman in civilian clothes.

"May I help you?" he asked.

The police officers looked at him. "Does Emma Barnes live at this address?" the senior one asked.

"Yes, she does," replied Alan. "I'm her father. Why do you want to see her?"

"We would like her to come down to the station for questioning, sir."

Alan froze. "Why – what's she done?"

"You may have heard of an incident where a student at her school was shut into a locker, yesterday?" asked the police officer. "We have reason to believe that she was complicit in that incident."

The lady in civilian clothes stepped forward. "I'm Dorothy Gillman, from Child Services," she said. "I'm here to ensure that her rights are not abrogated while she is being questioned."

Somehow, that did not make Alan feel any better.

***

Across town, a very similar scene was playing out on the doorstep of Madison Clements.

***

Taylor and Danny dozed, woke, talked, dozed again, talked again. It was a thoroughly relaxing time. But around about ten o'clock, Danny finally roused himself.

"We should be going soon," he said. "Otherwise they'll be wondering where we've gotten to."

Taylor sat up. "Yeah, I suppose," she said. "I was really enjoying this, but I guess we should get up." Her eyes were bright, her expression playful. "Shower?"

He smiled and reached for her. "Let's work up a sweat first."

They made love slowly and tenderly, Danny sliding his penis in and out of Taylor's willing slippery vagina. She clung to him and kissed him, moaning with the pleasure that he caused her. He felt it also, felt himself beginning to swell inside her.

She came three or four times before he hunched his back, drove himself deep inside her, and ejaculated; she felt the blistering orgasm, and it raised her own pleasure exponentially. The feedback from this left them both panting and shattered on the bed. Taylor groaned as Danny rolled off of her, his penis sliding wetly out of her.

"Holy shit, Dad, is this just going to get better and better every time we do it?"

"I have no idea," he panted, taking her in his arms and holding her close. "But they say that powers do improve if you work at them."

She put her arms around him, enjoying the feeling of his softening penis lying between her thighs. "What, you're saying that having good sex is one of the powers we share?"

He chuckled. "Sounds as good an explanation as any."

"Wow," she said. "I think our shower had better be just a shower. I don't know if I could survive something like that twice in a row."

He concurred; the shower was just a shower, albeit with plenty of kissing and caressing.

Afterward, they had a late breakfast, then dressed; he teleported them to the PRT base.

***

Armsmaster turned the bag over in his hands, examining the badly damaged musical instrument within. "Yes," he decided. "I can fix this."

"If you can," said Danny Hebert, "we would greatly appreciate it."

"If Armsmaster says he can do this," said Director Piggot, "he can do it.". She looked at Danny and Taylor. "Not to open old wounds," she said, "but didn't you say you had evidence against Shadow Stalker and her two accomplices?"

Danny looked at Taylor, who groaned and put her hand to her forehead. "Would you believe, in all the excitement, I forgot them?"

She shared a glance, and a moment of silent, deadpan, shared amusement, with her father. They both knew exactly what she meant by 'excitement'. Clasping his hand, she asked, "Dad, could you get them for me?"

This time, only Armsmaster was surprised when the purple-brown smoke billowed around Danny's hand, then dissipated to leave him holding a stack of papers. He handed them over to the Director, who promptly handed them on to Armsmaster. "See how she reacts to these, will you?" she asked.

The armoured hero smiled grimly, noting the thickness of the stack. "Will do, ma'am," he replied. He looked at Danny with some respect. "That's a very useful trick, sir."

Danny cleared his throat self-consciously. "If I'm going to be in the Protectorate, then you'll be my boss. _I'll_ be calling _you_ 'sir'."

Armsmaster nodded. "That's a very good point.". He rose. "I'll just take these down to the prisoner now."

As the door to the conference room closed behind him, Miss Militia looked at Taylor and Danny. "I'm guessing you've been discussing it," she said, "so have you decided what names you will be using?"

Taylor grinned. "At first we liked the idea of calling ourselves 'Search and Rescue', but then we decided not to be quite so derivative. So I'm going to be Compass Rose."

Danny nodded. "And I was thinking of going with either Pathfinder or Trailblazer."

Miss Militia nodded. "Very strong names. I must say, I prefer Pathfinder over Trailblazer, though. It has an old-world military ring to it. World War Two, perhaps?"

"Actually, yes," confirmed Director Piggot. They looked at her. "My father was a war buff," she continued, unfazed. "Pathfinder squadrons consisted of light fighter-bombers, usually Mosquitos, flying out ahead of the heavies and dropping flares to mark the target."

There was silence for a moment, as the others considered this.

"That can't have been safe," observed Taylor, taking hold of her father's hand.

Piggot shook her head. "It wasn't. But we are getting away from the point. You have chosen the names Compass Rose and Pathfinder. Costume ideas?"

Danny rubbed his chin. "Compasses are old-school, and as you say, so is the idea of the Pathfinder. So, an old-fashioned look. Sepia tones. Brown and cream."

Miss Militia nodded. "So far, so good. Accessories?"

Taylor spoke up. "I'd like an actual picture of a compass rose on my costume. One of the really gorgeous ones, with scrollwork. Maybe tilted a bit, so it looks elliptical. And goggles. I'll need goggles, with corrective lenses.". She paused. "Actually, Dad, I've been meaning to ask you. Why aren't you wearing _your_ glasses?"

Danny blinked. "Uh, Panacea gave me corrective treatment," he confessed. "I kind of forgot about it, with everything that was happening."

"Ah," she sighed. "And she didn't do it for me because she didn't know I was a cape."

"We can ask her to come back," offered Director Piggot.

"It might not work," observed Miss Militia. "Panacea is very big on her independence. She doesn't do individual requests.". She looked up from the pad she had been sketching on. "How does this look?"

The sketches looked remarkably like target outlines that had been filled in with details after the fact. Both costumes evoked the 'aviator' look without actually being explicit about it. Danny's had knee-high boots, a long coat and a light helmet, looking vaguely military. The heavy goggles had rectangular lenses. "We can also put something across your lower face if you want," she said.

He nodded and passed the pad along to Taylor. Her costume had the compass rose on the chest, a light coat, high boots like Danny's and a light helmet with round-lensed goggles. "We can build in a heads-up display, to feed you information on things or people," Miss Militia added.

"What do you think, kiddo?" asked Danny.

Taylor nodded. "I like it. The basic concept, anyway. We might need to adjust things a little during fitting.". She tapped the coat her image was wearing, then held up her own rather skinny wrist. "We don't want my hands looking like pipe-cleaners coming out of those sleeves.". She cleared her throat. "And would it be possible to have just a little, uh, padding, here and there?" She looked defiantly around the room. "So I don't look, you know, twelve?"

Miss Militia coughed. Danny took a studied interest in the ceiling acoustic tiles. Director Piggot merely looked deadpan, and made a note.

"I'm sure that will be possible," she murmured.

"The costumes will be ready in about two days," said Miss Militia. "In the meantime, it would probably be best if you went about your normal routines."

"Which reminds me," said Danny. "Did I ... out ... myself, yesterday, with all my teleporting around?"

"Actually," said Miss Militia, "it's amazing what people miss if they don't compare notes. We have spoken to the principal at Winslow, and secured her silence, and that of her staff. Virtually no-one else is aware of your new capabilities."

"Uh ... as for going to school ..." said Taylor. "I'm not sure ..."

Miss Militia positively grinned behind her scarf. "Where are Emma and Madison now?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, in the police station. Not looking happy." She blinked again. "And Mr Barnes is there too. He looks like he's been shouting a lot, and not getting anywhere."

Miss Militia nodded. "And whatever Sophia can confirm from the papers you gave us will be added to their charge sheets when they do get arrested. Believe me when I say that they are not walking away from this one." There was the sound of considerable satisfaction in her voice.

Taylor grinned. "Somehow, I'm really good with that."

Director Piggot nodded. "I'm not surprised." She paused. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Well," said Danny, "I've called in sick, and Taylor isn't expected at school, so we could have a quiet day in ..." His gaze met Taylor's. _Read: screw like rabid weasels._ "... or, we could have a day out and about."

"Or," offered Taylor, "do you have a spare computer that I can pull up those missing-persons lists on?"

Director Piggot's gaze met that of Miss Militia. "I do believe we just might," agreed Miss Militia.

"While we're getting that set up," added the Director, "would you be able to tell me the status of Jack Slash?"

Taylor breathed deeply, and took her father's hand.

"He's injured, hiding out in a town called Burwell, to the southeast of where he was yesterday," she reported. "Shrapnel wounds and some pretty bad burns. Four sixty-three South Eighth Avenue." She paused. "Crawler's still in the area, Shatterbird's flying southwest, and I can't get a read on Siberian at all. It's like she doesn't exist." She frowned. "That's really weird ... and possibly really bad. How did she go invisible to my power between one day and the next?"

Miss Militia shrugged. "You've only just recently gotten your powers," she said. "Maybe you're still working them out."

Taylor shrugged dubiously. "Okay, I guess." She looked at Director Piggot. "The rest are in custody?"

"Or dead," replied the Director bluntly. "But from retrieved remains, only the four got away." She smiled thinly. "Thank you for the information about Jack Slash."

Taylor nodded. "You're welcome."

Miss Militia stood up. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you set up for finding missing persons."

Taylor got up along with Danny. Hand in hand, they followed her out the door.


End file.
